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DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



Sdiuuud Kirke's Books. 

All neat 12mos, handsomely bound in cloth. 

I. 

Among the Piiies. 

II. 

My Soulliern Friends. 

III. 
Down in Tennessee. 



*5i,* Single cojncs f<ent by mail, postage free, by 

Carleton, Publisher, 

Neir York. 



DOWN 



IN TENNESSEE, 



BACK BY WAY OF EICHMOi\D. 



EDMUND KIRKE, 

AlITUOK OF "among THE PINES," " JIT SOUTIIEUN FKIEND8," ETC. 



'Ci 



NEW YORK: 
CABLETOX, PUBLISHER, 413 BROADWAY. 

M.DCCC.LXIV. 






Entered according to Act 5f Congress, in the year 1SC4, 

Br J. R. GILMOEE, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Southern District of New Yorli. 



m'cEEA * MILLEE, STBREOTYPEC?. 0. A. ALV0:;T), PRINTEK. 



s • 



SIDNEY HOWARD GAY, 

THESE SKETCHES 

AKE DEDICATED 

WITH THE TRUK AND EARNEST REGARD 

OF 

HIS FRIEND, 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

At Louistille 9 

CHAPTER II. 
On the Road 2^ 

CHAPTER III. 

GrUEEILLAS 35 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Union Scout 45 

CHAPTER V. 
The Nashville Prison 69 

CHAPTER VI. 
The Army. Chaplain 70 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Captain's Story 83 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The Poor White Man 104 

CHAPTER IX. 
The Old Negro's Story 122 

CHAPTER X. 
The Regimental Hospital 134 

CHAPTER XI. 
The Man who " don't Surrender Much." 139 



8 CONTEMTS. 

CHAPTER XII. PAUis 

Bible Smith 144 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Bible's Story. 168 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Bible's Scouting Adyentures 169 

CHAPTER XV. 
The " Poor "Whites" 182 

CHAPTER XVI. 
A Day with Rosecrans 196 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Views of Southebn Men 219 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
Southern Letter 229 

CHAPTER XIX. 
Colonel Jambs F. Jaquess 233 

CHAPTER XX. 
Why I went to Richmond > 248 

CHAPTER XXI. 
On the Way to Richmond 252 

CHAPTER XXII. 
In Richmond 2G5 



DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



CHAPTER I, 



AT LOUISVILLE. 



A DESIRE to study the undercurrents of popular sentiment at 
the Sontli, and to meet some of "ray Southern friends," whom 
the fortunes of war had made our prisoners within sight of 
their homes, led me, early in the month of May, to visit the 
Southwest. While there I came in contact with many intelli- 
gent men, of all shades of political opinion ; and from them 
gathered much that is illustrative of the real state of Southern 
feeling, and of the real purposes of the leaders of the Rebellion. 
In the hope that what I saw and heard may not be without in- 
terest to those who have not had the opportunity of personal 
observation, I propose to give in the following chapters some 
sketches of the men I met, and the scenes I witnessed, during 
a month's sojourn in a section which is being upheaved by the 
passions and desolated by the fires of our civil war. 

Arriving at Louisville I at once sought out Colonel Mundy, 
the gentlemanly commandant of that post, to ascertain the 
whereabouts of my captive friends. He could give me no 
definite information, but presumed they were at Nashville. 
"However," he said, "prisoners are not kept there long. They 
1* . 



10 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

are sent to Vicksburg for exchange as quickly as possible'. If 
you desire to see tbein, you had better push on immediately." 

This put me in a dilemma. The railroad below Bowling 
Green was infested with guerillas, and on several recent oc- 
casions, they had assailed the trains, and robbed and maltreated 
passengers. The cars were insufficiently guarded, and travelling 
was therefore attended with considerable personal hazard. In 
these circumstances I had gladly listened to the suggestion of 
Parson Brownlow — whom I had met at Cincinnati — to lie over 
at Louisville and accompany him and Governor Johnson to 
Nashville. They would be attended by a guard strong enough 
to beat off any roving band that ventured to attack the train ; 
but would, perhaps, not start for a week. In the mean time, 
my Secession friends might be sent to " parts unlcnown." 
Therefore, if I waited, I was likely to miss one of the main ob- 
jects of my journey, and if I went forward I ran the risk of 
getting a bullet under my waistcoat, or such an "inside view" 
of Rebeldom as might not be agreeable. Either horn of the 
dilemma seemed objectionable. While uncertain which one to 
choose, the small clock in the office of the Louisville Hotel 
sounded twice, and I walked up to the dining-room. 

On my right at the table sat a tall, squarely built man, 
wearing the uniform of a lieutenant-colonel of infantry. He 
had a broad, open, resolute face — ridged and sun-browned, and 
a stiff, military air, but there was something about him that 
seemed to invite conversation, and after -a while I said to him: 

" You are travelling. Sir ?" 

" Yes, Sir, I am returning to my regiment at Triune." 

" Is it entirely safe going down the Nashville road ? 

" Not entirely so. When I came up, a week ago Monday, 



AT LOUISVILLE. 11 

we were fired into by a band of forty-eight, but we beat them 
oft'." 

"What were the circumstances?" 

*' It occurred just this side of Franklin. We heard there of 
a party being in the vicinity, and took on board a squad of 
thirty men. We had gone on about three miles, when the 
engineer discovered the track was torn up, where a wood lines 
the road, and at once reversed the engine. The guerillas were 
posted behind the trees, and as the train halted, poured a volley 
into us, and, yelling like devils, made a rush for the cars. I 
got this in readiness" — taking from his belt a large army 
repeater, and tapping it rather affectionately — " the moment I 
heard the train slacking-up, and when the leader came within 
fifteen feet of the platform I fired through the window and 
killed him. My second shot brought the next devil to his 
knees, and made the rest halt for an instant. In that instant 
the soldiers in the forward car, who had waited to cap their 
muskets, gave them a volley, and they skedaddled, leaving four 
dead and three wounded on the ground. We had on board 
three paymasters with over four hundred thousand dollars in 
money, and the fellows might have made a rich haul." 

"And they would have done so but for your prompt shots 
giving the soldiers time to fire. You saved the train !" 

" No, Sir," replied the Colonel, pleasantly, as if not displeased 
■with my compliment, "the General saved it," 

" How so ? Was Rosecrans on board ?" 

" No ; but a little while ago he ordered all ofiicers to wear 
side-arms when off" duty. But for that my pistol would have 
been in my valise ; for it's a nuisance to carry ten pounds of 
iron all the while dangling at your side. The General foresaw 



12 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

just such emergencies. He thinks of every thing, Sir. 1 reckon 
he never sleeps." 

" I suppose he is a vigilant officer." 

" Yes, Sir ; I was all through the Mexican war, and have seen 
something of generals. Rosecrans is the ablest one I ever 
knew." 

" He certainly is successful." 

" Always ; never was defeated, and never will be. He plan- 
ned and won McClellan's battles in Western Virginia ; did the 
same for Grant in Mississippi, and at Stone River — why, Sir, 
when we were thoroughly whipped, and every man in the army 
knew it, he, singly, regained the battle. There is not another 
man living who could have done it." 

This was said with an enthusiasm that provoked a smile ; but 
I quietly remarked : " I am glad to hear such an account of 
him. I intend to visit him, but am undecided whether to go 
down at once, or to wait till the Governor arrives, and take ad- 
vantage of his escort." 

" It will be safer to go at once. The Governor will stay here 
a day or two, and as this place is full of rebels, every guerilla 
in Tennessee will know when he starts. If they can muster 
strong enough they'll surely attack him. I go down by the 
next train, and will be glad to have your company." 

"Thank you. Your revolver has acquitted itself so well, 
that I am disposed to tru^it it. I'll go with you. Sir ;" and 
rising, we left the table together. 

The cars were not to start till the following morning, and the 
afternoon being on our hands, we seated ourselves in the smok- 
ing room, and resumed the conversation. 1 soon gleaned some- 
thing of the Colonel's history. He bad started in life with 



AT LOUISVILLE. 13 

only a clear head and a strong pair of hands, but was then the 
owner of a well-stocked farm of three hundred and twenty 
acres, and in affluent circumstances. His experience in Mexico 
had given him a military education, ^nd on the breaking out of 
the war, Governor Morton tendered him a colonel's commission. 
Having a young family growing up about him, and being past 
the ao-e when love of adventure lures men into danger, he de- 
clined it. But when the new regiments were called for, and it 
seemed doubtful that his county would furnish her quota, he 
volunteered, to set, as he said, "the boys an example." His 
regiment, the 82d Indiana, at once filled up, and he was ap- 
pointed its lieutenant-colonel. He had been in many small 
engagements, and at Stone River was in command of the six 
hundred skirmishers who, at the close of the last day's fight, in 
the darkness of midnight, advanced two miles, and for three 
hours " felt" a hostile force of five thousand. So long as the 
West sends such men to the war, the friends of the Union may 
be of good heart, for they cannot be beaten. 

After a time the conversation turned upon politics, and my 
new acquaintance said to me : " A large majority of Rosecrans's 
men went into the war friendly to slavery; but not one of them 
would now consent to any peace that did not destroy it root 
and branch. Nine months ago I left home a Breckinridge 
Democrat, and now% sir, Fm as black an Abolitionist as Wendell 
Phillips." 

"And what, pray, turned you about so suddenly?" 

" Seeing slavery as it is. One little incident convinced me 

that a negro is a man — just as much of one as I am— and 

therefore not fit to be a slave. It occurred at Triune, where 

I am now stationed. • Just outside of our lines lives a 



14 ' DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

planter who professes strong Union sentiments. He used to 
mix freely with our officers, keep open house for them, and 
was, apparently, a whole-souled, hospitable fellow. He owned 
a good many negroes, and among them a quiet, respectable old 
darky of about sixty, who supplied iny mess with eggs and 
poultry. Not long ago our pickets, stationed about one hun- 
dred }'ards from this planter's house, were fired upon several 
times from the woods near by. It was done regularly twice a 
week, and on each occasion occurred about two o'clock in the 
morning. At last one of our boys was hit, and, being in com- 
mand of the pickets, I set about investigating the matter. 
There was nothing to point suspicion at the planter, except the 
fact of his being a slaveholder, but that convinced me he had a 
hand in it. I never knew one of them, however stroffg his pro- 
fessions of loyalty, who was not at heart a rebel. 

" I sent for the old darky, to question him, and, learning 
of it, the planter came to my quarters, and insisted that he had 
a right to hear what his negro said. I was satisfied I couldn't 
get the truth out of the slave in the master's presence, but I 
consented to go on with the examination. T put some leading 
questions to the old man, and in a quiet, straightforward way 
he told me that an officer of Bragg's army had been in the 
habit of visiting the mansion every few nights for several weeks. 
He said he came about midnight, left his horse and orderly 
concealed in the woods, and went up to the mistress's room as 
soon as he entered the house. There the master would join 
him, and remain with him generally for an hour or two. And 
lie added, with perfect coolness : * D'rec'ly af er de cap'n wud 
leab, Sar, I'd allers yere de shootin' 'mong de trees. I reckoned 
dat wus bery quar, till finarly, one day, I yered Massa a tellin' 



AT LOUISVILLE. • 15 

Missus dat de Cap'n war bound to wing one ob dem Yankees 
anyhow.' I asked him why the officer went there, and the 
old fellow, scratching his wool, and assuming a very stupid 
look, said : 

" ' 1 doesn't loiows. Gunnel. It allers 'peared bery quar ter 
me dat he shud come, but I reckons de Secesh wants ter larn 
whot's gwine on in de camps. Massa, hesefi", wus allers bery 
curous 'bout dat, Sar, an' he sot me, ober an' ober agin, ter 
fine out — tole me I muss keep my yeres wide open wheneber I 
toted you de truck ; but, you allers hab your moufh shet so 
bery close. Gunnel, dat I neber could fine out a ting — not a ting, 
Sar.' " 

Here the Golonel burst into a fit of laughter. As soon as he 
could readjust the muscles of his mouth to the English dialect, 
he continued : 

" Through the whole of this, the planter threatened him, and 
he finally stormed, and raved at him like a madman, but the 
old Christian went on as quiet as a Quaker meeting, only once 
in a while answering his master, with — ' You knows it'm de 
Lord's truf h, massa. I karn't say nuffin else, massa ; I'se bery 
sorry, massa — 'pears like I'd die fur you, massa, 'case I toted 
yoa when you's a chile, an I'se allers lubed you ; but I karn't 
sa}' nuffin else — de Lord woant lefi" me say nuffin else, massa. 
No, He woant !' 

"The darky knew we might march at any moment, and that,' 
when we did, there were ninety-nine chances in a hundred of 
his being whipped to death by his master, or by some of the 
neighbors, if his master wasn't left to do it ; and yet he was as 
cool as I am. Martin Luther, when he went into Worms, ex- 
pecting to meet the devil himself, didn't show .the moral 



16 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

couraffe of that old negro, lie convinced me that the black 
is altogether too much of a man to be a slave." 

" And what did you do with the master ?" 

" Nothing. Our Brigadier, who had been a frequent guest 
at his house, thought it not exactly the thing to hang a white 
man on a ' nigger's' testimony, and so let him off. If I had bad 
my way, he would have hung higher than Haman." 

" And what became of the negro ?" 

" Not many days after his master was released, he came to 
ray tent one evening, and with a little hesitation, said : ' Gunnel, 
I don't w^ant ter 'sturb you, but de Lord come ter me lass 
night, Sar, an' he telled me ter leff you know what's a gwine 
on.' 

" And what is a going on ?" I asked. 

" ' \\'all, you see, Gunnel, de debil hab got inter massa ; an' 
he swar he'm gwine ter kill me fur telUn' you 'bout de Secesh 
cap'n.' 

" I assured him I would protect him, and accordingly, in a 
day or two, I packed him off, with his traps and family, to the 
Free States. It wasn't exactly according to Tennessee law, and 
his owner protested warmly against it, but I advised him to 
prove his loyalty and claim his property of Uncle Sam. 

" The old darky lived in a little log cabin near his master's 
house, and the day he was to leave I rode out to see him safely 
off. Ilis small amount of personal property was stowed away 
in the ambulance, which was to take him to Nashville ; and his 
wife, a good-looking mulatto (the old fellow himself was blacker 
than ink) had already mounted the wagon. A pretty quadroon 
woman of about thirty, who passed as his daughter — though 
she couldn't have been of his blood — was heluiug on to the 



AT LOUISVILLE. 17 

seat one of the most beautiful white children I ever saw. She 
was well dressed, and had a fair, clear, rosy skin, and an eye as 
blue as indigo. Supposing she was the master's child, I asked 
her where she was going. ' Way uj) Norfh, massa, 'long wid 
gran'dad,' she answered. 

" I was thunderstruck. She was the old woman's grand- 
child, the planter's own child, and a dave ! I never till then 
realized what an accursed thing slavery is." 

While sauntering about the hotel during the day, I had 
noticed a placard which read somewhat as follows : 

" Passengers for the Louisville and Nashville road are notified 
that the wagon will be in readiness to take baggage to the Ex- 
aminer's Ofiice at four p. m." » 

As this notice applied to us, I suggested, as the Colonel 
finished his story, that we should repair to the " Custom 
House." 

We found it on a side street, a dingy room about twenty feet 
square. It was densely crowded M'ith carpet bags, portman- 
teaus, packing trunks, and a score of German Israelites, each 
one of whom was soliciting the immediate attention of the 
single examining official to the general assortment of diy goods 
and groceries which his particular trunk contained. Another 
official was behind the counter affixing to the " passed " pack- 
ages, a strip of white muslin, and two mammoth daubs of red 
sealing wax. The office was advertised to close at five o'clock, 
and it then wanted but ten minutes of that hour. As our 
luggage could not leave the State without having two of those 
red seals upon it, each duly stamped U. S., the prospect of its 
going in the morning seemed decidedly dubious. With a little 



IS DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

inward trepidation, I said to the. coatless official : " Is there 
any probability of our turn coming this evening, sirf ' 

" Are you an ' Israelite indeed V " 

"No, sir, neither in name nor in deed, /'m a gentleman at 
large ; my friend here, is a Union officer." 

" Ah, Colonel ! how are you ?" exclaimed the official, looking 
up and touching his cap to my companion. The Colonel re- 
turned his salutation, and in a moment the other was at the 
bottom of my trunk, taking an inventory of the spare waist- 
coats, extra socks, and under-garments which it contained. In 
five minutes the ceremonies were over, and we left the " receipt 
of customs" devoutly thankful that we were not of the wander- 
ing tribes of Israel. The whole scene was decidedly suggestive 
of a landing among the French or Austrian officials ; and it 
was with difficulty I realized that I was in an inland American 
town, and merely passing from one State of the Union to another. 

As I was seated, after supper, in the porch of the hotel, en- 
joying a fragrant Havana, and the cool evening breeze, a lean, 
elongated " native" approached me. He had a thin, haggard 
face ; a tawny red skin ; and a mass of coarse black hair, which 
fell round his neck, like hemp round a mop-handle. His butter- 
nut clothes were much the worse for wear, and torn in many 
places ; and the legs of his pantaloons, which made no effort to 
reach the coarse brogans that encased his feet, disclosed a skin 
so scratched and furrowed that it seemed to have been gone 
over with a harrow. I had seen thousands of his class, but 
there was a look of such intense wildness in his gray eyes, 
which moved in their sockets with the unsteady glare of a wild 
beast's, that I involuntarily started and turned toward him. 
Seeing my movement, he said, in a quiet, civil tone : 



AT LOUISVILLE. 19 

" How dy'ge, stranger ? Dy'ge b'long yere ?" 

" No, Sir." 

" B'long ter the army ?" (I wore a suit of regimental blue, 
minus shoulder-straps and brass buttons.) 

" No, Sir, I'm a peace man." 

" Peace man ! — Copperhead ?" and his eyes glared a little 
more wildly than before. 

" No, Sir, not exactly that, but I let others do the fighting." 

" Ye does ! Wall, Sir, you uns is a cuss ter the kentry. Ye 
orter be druv out uv bit. The man tbet woant fight now 
haint fit ter live." 

" You're right, my friend. Sit down;" and I motioned him 
to a vacant chair beside me. He continued standing, evidently 
not inclined to approach nearer to a man of peace principles. 
Observing this, I added : 

" You misunderstand me — I'm a peace man, but I fight in 
my way — Avith a pen." 

" Oh ! thet's hit ? Wall, thet'll do, ef ye gwo hit powerful 
strong." 

" And how do yon fight ?" 

" Ary how ? The rebs '11 tell ye thet." 

" But you don't wear the clothes ; how is that ?" 
^ " Why, me an' twelve right smart uns hes been beatin' the 
bushes — keepin' the deestrict clar; but they's grow'd ter much 
fur us." 

" Oh ! bushwacking." 

" Yas, but I bed ter put out. I'se gwine inter the army 
now — but I muss sell my mars fust. Dy'ge know whot Govern- 
ment '11 pay fur a right smart chunk uv a mar ?" 

" A hundred and five dollars, I believe, is the regular price." 



20 DOWN IN tennessep:. 

" Taint 'uuff fuv, mine. They's powerful good brutes. I 
must git more'n thet, case my 'ooman '11 hev nothin' else, an' 
she's sickly like." 

" But if you go into tlie army you can save a part of your 
pay for hei-." 

" No, I karu'fc. I'll be shot — I feel hit — I'se made up my 
mind ter hit." As he said this, he seated himself in the chair 
I had offered him, and stared at me with a still wilder, crazier 
look. I saw that some terrible calamity had unsettled his in- 
tellect, and I said, in a sympathizing tone : 

" You're not well : you're not fit to go into the army now." 

" Yas, I is, Sir. I kin fight as hard as ary man ye knows. 
I'se a little gin out jest now, 'case I'se rid nigh onter a 
hundred an' fifty mile, an' hed ter jDote my 'ooman a powerful 
piece o' the way." 

" Where have you come from ?" 

" Clay county, nigh on ter Manchester. I lived thar, I'se 
plumb from thar this eveniu'." 

" Andrrwere you driven away ?" 

" Yes, Sir; druv away — robbed — hous'n burned — every thing 
burned, an' my ole mother — killed — killed ! killed !" He bent 
down his head while he spoke, and as he repeated the last 
words they seemed to well nigh strangle him. •^ 

"It can't be possible !" I exclaimed; "human beings don't do 
such things !" 

"But they haint human bein's — they's fien's — devils from 
hell— from hell. Sir." 

" I know their passions are roused, but I did not know they 
murdered women.'''' 

" They does. Sir. I'll tell ye 'bout hit ;" and grasping one 



AT LOUISVILLE. 21 

arm of my chair, and leaning forward with his unsteady, blaz- 
ing eye looking into mine, he told me the following story : 

" 'Bout a mile from whar I b'long thar lived a ole man by 
the name of Begley — Squire Begley we called him, though he 
didn't own no slaves. He wus nigh on ter seventy, but wus a 
right peart ole man, an' Union ter the core — two on his boys — 
Sam an' John, is in the army now — 8th loyal Kaintuck. Wall, 
'bout a fortnit gone, on the mornin' uv the fifteenth uv April, 
three men, dressed in Union does, comes ter the ole gentle- 
man's house, an' telled him they wus round raisin' a company 
ter put down the rebs thet wus poreing inter the county. The 
ole man wus mighty pleased, an' I reckon he wus unprudent in 
his talk ; fur when they'd drawed him out, they telled him 
they wus raally Secesh soldiers. Then he ordered 'em ter 
leave, but they trottled him, an' dragged him off ter the edge 
uv a 'branch, 'bout half a mile away, an' thar hung him ter the 
limb uv a tree. A ole nig thet war passin' 'long the road heerd 
the ole Squire's cries, as he begged 'em ter hev marcy on his 
gray bars; an' knowin' I war ter home, he put far m) house, 
and telled me on it. I axed him ter tote my mars ter the 
bush, fur I know'd thar wus more on 'em round, an' feared 
they'd be arter the nags, and then I put off ter save the ole 
man. I war too late. He war dead, an' the infernal devils 
bed got nigh back ter his house, meanin' to steal his fillies an' 
what plunder he bed thet could be toted. I follered' em an 
so soon as I come in distance, I drapped one on 'em. Then 
me an' tothers tuk ahind trees, an' blazed away ter one another 
fur more'n a hour. I winged one, but I got a ball yere," 
showing an ugly wound in his shoulder. " Arter a while six 
more on 'em rid up the road an' come at mc. T seed it waint 



22 . DOWN IN TENNESSEEE. 

no use, so I put fur the thick timber, an' finarly, seein' they 
couldn't ketch me, they guv up the cliase. T know'd twouldn't 
do ter gvvo home, so I made a long spell round, aliind a hill, 
an' put for the bushes whar I thort the ole darky'd be with the 
mars. It hed got ter be nigh enter dark, an' I'd grew'd pow- 
erful weak, on 'count nv the blood I'd let, so I sot down an' 
tried ter stop it. I hedn't sot long 'fore I thort I heerd a 
'ooman schreechin', an' lookin' round I seed my own wife. 
She'd jest lost har baby, an' hedn't been out uv bed far nigh a 
month, but she'd come six mile through the brush arter me. 
She couldn't speak, but she brung me a short piece from 
ahind the hill, an' show'd me my hous'u an' barn — all I lied in 
the world — a heap uv black an' ashes ! They'd burn'd 'em, 
Sir, an' druv my sick wife, an' my ole mother, who'd been bed- 
rid for more'n two year, out uv doors !" 

He paused for a moment, and then in a slow, broken voice, 
added : " Thet night she died. Died — thar — in the dark, an' 
the cold — nothin' under har but the yerth — nothin' over har 
but the ole gown thet my 'ooman belt up to keep the rain off 
har face ; an' when I kneeled down thar on the ground ter yere 
har last words, I swore,, Sir, I'd never rest till I'd drunk thar 
bleed — the heart's blood uv every rebel in Kaintuck ! 

" The next day the darky buried har. I couldn't be thar. 
They wus huntin' me like a wild beast. For more'n a week 
me an' my sick wife lay out in the woods ; but we're yere 
now, an' all I ax is ter sell my mars, an' git my 'ooman ter a 
safe place, an' then I'll guv 'em — whot they's guv'n me !" 

From various sources I afterward received confirmation of 
the native's story ; but it needed none; for in the fierce passion 
which blazed in his eyes, and lit up his haggard face, there was 
nothing but truth. 



CHAPTER II. 



ON THE ROAD. 



The next morning I started for Nashville. At the railway 
depot I was again reminded that I might be entering the French 
or Austrian dominions. At every turn my military passport 
was called for. I offered to pay my fare, and, " Please show 
your pass, Sir," greeted me from the small opening in the ticket 
oflSce. I tried to force my way through the crowd which 
blocked the inner gateway of the station-house, and, " Please 
show your pass. Sir," arrested my footsteps. I applied for a 
check to ray trunk, and, " Please show your" pass, Sir," sounded 
from the lungs of the luggage department. I attempted to get 
upon the train, and, " I'lease show your pass, Sir," was echoed 
by a slim gentleman in shoulder-straps at the foot of the plat- 
form ; and, finally, when congratulating myself that at least 
one-fourth of my perilous passage was accomplished, " Please 
show your pass. Sir," w-as smilingly repeated by a young man 
in military cap and citizen's nether garments, who had halted 
abreast of me in the aisle of the car. I drew it forth in 
despair. 

" Will this never end ?" I exclaimed, in evident ill-nature. 

" Oh yes, Sir. We'll not trouble you again — till we reach 
Nashville. It is annoying. Sir ; but absolutely necessaiy." 

The car, when we entered, was already packed with a general 



24 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

assortment of Kentucky jeans, butternut linseys, regimental 
blues, regulation buttons, and shoulder straps ; bnt a single, 
timid-looking woman in the corner, and a small sprinkling of 
civilians among the soldiery, told plainly that none of our fel- 
low-travellers were leaving home on a pleasure excursion. 

Near the forward door were a number of citizens, who, 
politely displacing some pieces of luggage, invited the Colonel 
and myself to squeeze ourselves into seats by the side of two 
fat men in secession gray, who turned out to be planters from 
Western Tennessee. They were of a party of neighbors, who 
had been to Louisville together, and were then returning to 
their homes. 

As the train moved off from the station, one of them said to me: 

"You're from the North, Sir?" 

"Yes, Sir." 

" Things are rather disturbed with ye jest now — aren't they? 
That Vallandighara affair is creating some trouble ?" 

" Not much, Sir — the best ale will foam ; it is only a little 
froth on the surface." 

" It seems to me it's more than froth," said my right-hand 
neighbor. " I reckon your people are about tired of the war. 
If the Democrats were in power, they'd stop it." 

" How would they stop it ?" 

" By letting the South go. I'm a Union man, Sir, but I've 
had enough of the war — I want peace. You people at the 
North know nothing about it. We're robbed by both sides ; 
we can't stir out of our houses in safety; I never wake in the 
morning but I fear the day will be my last." 

" It is a sad state of things, no doubt ; but I fear it will con- 
tinue till the South submits." 



ON THE KOAD. 25 

"Then it will last forever," exclaimed another planter, who 
sat feeing me. " The South will never submit, Sir ! It will 
never come back ! Every Southern man will die first." 

" Allow me to ask if you're not a slaveholder ?" said the Col- 
onel, leaning forward, and smilingly addressing .the last speaker. 

" Yes, Sir ; I own some twenty negroes." 

" I thought so. I never heard a man with less than that 
number express such sentiments." 

" But I own more, and I'm not of that opinion," said the 
quiet gentleman beside the Colonel. " I would be glad to see 
the South back." 

" You're not a native. Sir.'' 

" No, Sir ; but I've done business here for thirty years. My 
friend, the Doctor here," pointing to another gentleman, sitting 
opposite to me, " is a native, and a slaveholder, and as rabid 
on the Union as I am." 

" And how many slaves have you, Doctor,'' asked the Colonel, 
with another of his pleasant smiles. 

*' Only two quarters of one, Sir, an old man and a woman, 
who were playmates of my mother," answered the medical man. 

" I thought so," said the Colonel, quietly. 

" Come gentlemen," I exclaimed, laughing, " as the Colonel 
thinks the number of darkies a man owns a sort of political 
barometer, suppose we take a census at once." 

My suggestion was received good-naturedly, and in five min- 
utes I had the statistics. The corpulent planter, who expected 
each day would be his last, had seventy odd ; the Northern 
born merchant had twenty-seven ;. the doctor, two, and the 
others, respectively, one hundred and nine, sixty-two, twenty- 
four, and twenty-one ; the latter number representing the inter- 



2(3 DOWN IN TENNESSEE, 

est the belligerent planter had in the peculiar institution. A 
half-hour's desultory conversation followed, and during "it each 
one, except my right-hand neighbor, and the " No submission" 
man, expressed a willingness to sacrifice his chattels to save the 
Union. 

" Ah, Colonel," I exclaimed, as I leanied the sentiments of 
the last of the party, " you are floored — your theory won't 
stand fire." 

" Perhaps it won't," he replied, dryly. 

More extended observation subsequently convinced me that 
his views are fully supported by general facts. 

As the planter of secession proclivities was rather warmly 
combating my views on the Emancipation Proclamation, a sin- 
gularly self-possessed, gentlemanly-looking man, of about fifty, 
approached us, and leaning against the arm of the opposite seat, 
accosted me as follows : 

" And when the South is subdued, and the war is over, what 
will you do with four millions of emancipated blacks ?" 

" Set them at work, and pay them." 

" And would you, a white man, consent to live where every 
second citizen is a black, and your political and social equal ?'' 

" Freedom of itself, Sir, will not make the black my equal. 
At the North he is not politically or socially on a par with 
the white, and there he has had fifty years of freedom." 

" But your black is inferior to ours. The negro is of a trop- 
ical race ; he comes to perfection only under a warm sun." 

" K that be true, your negroes are fit for freedom, for our 
blacks are as orderly, industrious, and quietly disposed as any 
class we have." 

The new-comer was about to reply, when the Doctor, turning 



ON THE KOAD. 27 

to him, said : " Colonel, you consider our whites superior to our 
blacks ; do you not ?'' 

"Certiiinly I do," 

" Then give the blacts freedom ; subject them to free com- 
petition with the poor whites, and you'll soon be rid of them, 
for they'll die out. The Indian is naturally superior to the 
negro, but two centuries of contact with the white man — the 
Indian harngfree — has reduced the race from sixteen ]iiiIlions 
to two millions. Set the black free, leave him to himself, and 
his fate will be the same." 

" Then slavery keeps the race alive among us ?" 

" Of course it does ; for, while the black labors for us, we 
feed, and clothe, and think for him ; and, besides — and tliis is 
the principal reason — we are constantly infusing fresh white 
blood into his veins. That would not be if he were free, for 
the black does not seek the white, but the white the black." 

"You have stated the strongest argument for Slavery that 1 
ever heard. You say it will save the black, and yet, while you 
admit that freedom would destroy him, you would set him free !" 

" I would — to save the whites. The social and political cor- 
ruption which absolute control of him has bred among us, is 
destroying us. It has produced the present state of things, and 
God is using this war — the fruit of our corruption — to purify 
us. lie has written on the wall — ^any man can read it — " Slav- 
ery is doomed !" 

"/ cannot read it, and I do not believe a good and just God 
over decrees the destruction of his creatures." 

" Has he not destroyed other races ? He works by general 
laws, and one of the plainest of His laws is, that the weak shall 
give way to the strong, the inferior race to the superior. There 



28 DOWN IN TENNESSEK. 

is no hardship in this. Every man submits cheerfully to it — 
the old give up their places to the young — the father dies, and 
the son succeeds him, and nobody grumbles. We have ob- 
structed the operation of this law on th'e black race, and now, 
in tears and blood, we are paying the penalty." 

" You bookish men can spin fine theories, but we have to deal 
with facts, and hard fixcts at that.^' 

" I have formed my theory on facts. Colonel, hard and black 
facts, too," replied the Doctor, laughing. 

" But you never loved the slaves — never had them love you, 
as mine love me. When Grant's army was at Memphis I told 
them they would be free if they went to it, and not one of them 
left me." 

" That only proves, what everybody knows, that you are a 
kind master ; and that your pegroes would work cheerfully for 
yo,u, if they were free." 

" Well, there's no use talking to you ; you're an incorrigible 
Abolitionist; but come. Squire," addressing my right hand 
neighbor, "exchange seats with me. I want to talk with this 
Northern gentleman, and I can't stand this any longer." The 
cars were jolting considerably, and his position was not an easy 
one. The fat planter rose, and the other seated himself beside 
me. As he did so, I said to him : 

" I never discuss slavery. Sir ; it's a waste of words." 

" I don't wish to discuss it, Sir ; I want to ask you the real 
state of public feeling at the North. Where do you live, Sir ?" 

This was spoken in a tone which showed he was accustomed 
to a good deal more deference than is yielded to the ordinary 
run of planters. I quietly gave my name and residence, and 
asked him for his. 



ON THE KOAD. 29 

"George W. H , of H Springs, near Clarksville, 

Tennessee." » 

" Your name is familiar to me, Sir ; I formerly knew General 

H , of South Carolina— lie whose son commands the 

H Legion." 

" He was a near kinsman of mine. We're all of the old Vir- 
ginia family." 

He then went on to ask me a multitude of questions about 
the condition of things at the North. I answered frankly, and 
he' listened attentively, but made no comment when I expressed 
the opinion that the mass of our people would never consent to 
the re-establishmcnt of slavery. 

* * % * -5? % * 

We were entering a beautiful region, where the thick grass 
was waving in the meadows, the early flowers were blooming by 
the road sides, and the spring birds were singing in the great 
old trees ; but where the rich, red soil lay, unturned by the 
plough, the stalks of the Autumn corn stood rotting on the 
ground, and ruin and desolation stared at us from every thing. 
Broken fences, wasted fields, deserted plantations, dismantled 
dwellings, and now and then, a burned woods, or a charred 
chimney, standing a lonely sentinel over a weedy garden, or amid 
a blackened grove, told that the whirlwind of war had passed 
that way, and left only ravage and devastation in its path. A 
ragged woman, looking out from a wretched hovel ; a solitary 
man, lingering around a heap of ashes and crumbling bricks that 
might once have been his home, or a group of half-ehid negro 
children, gambolling on the porch, or lolling lazily on the lawn 
of some deserted homestead, that stiil looked down in faded 
grandeur on the ruin around it, were the only indications of 



30 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

human existence, and tbe only remnants of a once peaceful and 
happy population. It was one of the most lovely regions of 
the earth, naked, but beautiful even in its nakedness. I called 
the attention of my new acquaintance to its appearance, and he 
remarked : " No portion of this wide country has so fine a cli- 
mate, or so rich and fertile a soil. Before we reached Elizabeth- 
town, ,^e passed through what is called the 'bed of the Ohio' — 
a wliite clay region, heavily timbered, but deficient in iron and 
lime, and devoted mainly to grazing. Now, we are ascending 
an elevated jilateau of red clay, rich in everything except ammo- 
nia, and producing, almost spontaneously, enormous crops of 
wheat, rye, corn, hemp, blue grass, and tobacco. At Bowling 
Green this plateau is broken by irregular ridges that spring out 
from the Cumberland Mountains, and sink into the lower 
lands bordering the Mississippi. They give a more beautiful 
diversity to the surface, but the character of the soil continues 
the same, as, indeed, it does over nearly the wh.ole of this State 
(Kentucky) and Tennessee. Anywhere in this region the sub- 
soil, turned up by the plough, and exposed for a short time to 
the action of the air, becomes a manure almost as valuable as 
guano. These two States, Sir, were meant by nature to be the 
garden of this continent. Adam when he first woke in Eden, 
did not look on a more beautiful landscape, or a more luxuriant 
vegetation, than is everywhere spread around you; but now 
— what has war done ! A curse has fallen on these once hapf)\' 
homes — the 'abomination of desolation' sits in these pleasant 
places." 

" But the day will soon come, Sir, when free labor, free 
schools, and free men will people this region, and nudce it in 
reality, the paradise which God designed it should be." 



ON THE ROAD. 31 

" We caunot foresee the end, Sir, but my heart sickens when 
I think of what it may be — th(?se old homesteads dismantled, 
these rich plantations cut into little plats of a half dozen acres, 
and divided" among the negroes, or squatted on by a vulgar herd 
of Irish and Germans. I hope I may not live to see it, Sir ; 
but let even that come rather than disunion and the perpetual 
war that would follow." 

" And are you a Union man, Sir !" I exclaimed in pleased 
surprise. " I feared from what you said of slavery, that you 
were not." 

" Union, sir ! my Unionism has been tried ; it has stood the 
test — every test but death ; and I am ready to meet that for it. 
I believe in slavery ; I think it the normal condition of the 
black race ; I know my negroes are happier than they would 
be in freedom ; and — I love them, sir. But I love my children 
better. I do not want to leave them a heritage of endless war; 
and therefore, I am willing to abolish slavery, if the Union can- 
not be saved without it." 

" You must hane suffered greatly, sir, living as you do, in a 
section where the secession element is so strong." 

" I have. My plantation has been sacked, my life has been 
threatened — every relative I have in the world has turned against 
me. A committee waited on me, just before the June (1861) 
election, and told me that fifty ropes were ready to hang me if 
I did not cease my Union talk, and vote the separation ticket. 
With two of my negroes, armed to the teeth, I went to the 
polls, and defied them. I voted ' No Separation.' Then they 
dragged me and Judge Catron before the Military Commission 
at Nashville. They questioned us, and ordered us to leave the 
State. The Judge consented, but I charged them with sending 



32 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

US away because they had changed, while we had not, and I 
told them to their faces that I would not go — that I would die 
first. One of my near kinsman was on the Conflnission, and I 
accused him of being recreant to every principle of our ancestors. 
He only answered, ' I'll not argue that question with you. We 
may be wrong, but we're embarked in this thing ; our lives are 
at stake, and self-preservation, which makes a man sacrifice his 
dearest friend to save himself, impels us to go on. We cannot 
turn back.' It is that feeling which holds the leaders together. 
After that, my wife entreated me, and I am ashamed to say it, 
I was less outspoken. But I was a marked man ; they annoyed 
me and plundered me in eveiy way. At one time they quartered 
a whole regiment upon me. I went out and told them : ' You 
are my neighbors ; I love you, and would not kill you, but I curse 
you. I curse you for the ruin you are bringing on your country.' 
God heard me, Sir, and that curse rested on them. Out of the 
fifteen hundred that went to Richmond, only two hundred were 
left when Grant took Memphis ! The rest had answered the 
muster-roll in eternity ! Then every man felt justified in taking 
my life. I walked every day arm-in-arm with death. I was 
waylaid, shot at, ray well was poisoned. How I escaped, the 
Providence that guarded me only knows. When i\\h soldiers 
left, society became reduced to a state of anarchy — a struggle 
for self-preservation. Brothers turned against brothers, parents 
against children, children against parents. No man was safe. 
Even my friend Shackelford, law partner of Gustavus A. Henry, 
member of the Confederate Senate, was threatened with death. 
At the outset he had gone with the current, and liia only son 
had volunteered ; but when he saw the ruin which Secession 
was bringing on his section, he applied to Henry for the young 



ON THE EOAD. 33 

man's release. An order was at once issued for Ins own arrest, 
and he only escaped by fleeing the State. No words can pic- 
ture to you, Sir, the state of things that existed. All that Dante 
and Milton have told us of hell falls short of what we expe- 
rienced." 

" And through all this you stood true to the Union ! I 
honor you, Sir; from the bottom of my soul, I honor you." 

" You need not, for I knew their plans. I knew that all 
their talk about the extension and perpetuation of slavery is 
mere sham, to cover their real designs, which are to sjcbvert re- 
publican institutions, and found a bastard monarchy on the 
ruins of their country! I loved slavery. Sir. I love it still; 
but even to save it I could not aid in overthrowing the institu- 
tions founded by my fathers. I could not lift my puny arm in 
opposition to the manifest designs of God, which are that all 
men shall \>q free and equalP 

I did not ask him why the blacks had been overlooked in 
the designs of Deity ; I merely remarked : " And are you sat- 
isfied that such are the intentions of the rebel leaders ? I know 
that Spratt, and other Southern theorists, advocate monarchy as 
the only government compatible with slavery ; but I have not 
supposed your practical statesmen had adopted such views." 

" They have. Those ideas are the main-spring of the Rebel- 
lion. But for them it would never have. been undertaken. I 
hnow it. The whole scheme was opened to me. If it had not 
been I should have gone with the current. I could not other- 
wise have stemmed it. The English and French governments 
know it, and that is the reason the rebels have so much sympa- 
thy from them. They have kept the design carefully out of 
sight ; only the ringleaders have been in the secret, for they 

9* 



34 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

knew that if the masses discovered it before they had them 
bound hand and foot by military despotism, the whole jig was 
up." 

He paused, for just then the engine-wbistle sounded shrilly 
through the trees, tlie train broke up, every man in the car 
sprang to his feet, and a dozen voices cried out : 

" The guerillas are on us !" 

" Are you armed, Sir ?" said my new acquaintance to me, 
as coolly as if we were at his dinner-table. 

" No, Sir, I am not." 

" Take this ; it may be useful." 

Cocking the revolver, and giving one thought to those I had 
left at home, I seated myself, and breathlessly awaited tbe ex- 
pected assault. 



CHAPTER III. 



GUERILLAS. 



As tlie train came to a halt, the Doctor, who had been en- 
joying a quiet nap, opened his eyes, and asked : 

" What's to pay ?" 

" Reckon the Bushwhackers are on us !" 

" That can't be, this side of Bowling Green — some one had 
better reconnoitre," and rising from his seat, he drew from his 
pocket a pistol about as large as a boy's pop-gun, and strode 
toward the doorway." 

" For God's sake. Doctor, don't go theiie ! Keep inside !" ex- 
claimed half a dozen voices. 

Not heeding the warnings, the medical gentleman stepped 
upon the platform, saying, "Where's the guard? Well, these 
fellows are never where they should be." 

The single soldier who had been stationed before the door, 
had suddenly disappeare^ti. Naturally objecting to standing as 
a target for fifty rebel rifles, he had retreated into the forward 
car. The Doctor, then glancing cautiously around, and ap- 
parently seeing nothing to satisfy his curiosity, made a sudden 
spring for a huge tree which grew a short distance from the 
track. He alighted within a few feet of it, and by the move- 
ment secured two breastworks ; the tree in his front and the 
car in his rear.- 



36 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" He jumps lilvG a wild cat," exclaimed tLe Colonel, " but 
look at our ueighbors here ! Ha ! ha !" 

Turning about, I beheld nearly all of the citizens crouched 
on the floor, beneath the windows, and not a few of the officers 
with arms (and legs) couchant. 

" I say, Squire," said the Colonel, laughing, " ' The wicked 
flee when no man pursueth.' The devils would have been on 
us before now if they were coming." 

" The wise man foreseeth the evil and hideth himself — the 
fool holdeth up his head and getteth hit," responded the Squire, 
with a ludicrous effort at merriment. 

" That isn't in my version. But, Doctor, what's the deten- 
tion ?" to the latter, who that moment re-entered. 

" Two or three rails displaced — that's all. Some scoundrel 
meant to throw us off" the track." 

I breathed more freely; for, if the truth must be told, my 
respiratory apparatus had not performed its usual functions 
during the preceding occurrences. My whole being had been 
absorbed in two senses — sight and hearing. With my eyes 
ranging intently around, and my ears strained to catch the 
lightest outside sound, I had made those organs do the work of 
at least five days in those five minutes. Even a brave man — 
and bravery is not essential to one of my profession — is shaken 
when confronting an unseen danger ; and how the Colonel and 
the Doctor maintained such perfect coolness I could not imagine. 
I said as much to them, when, at the end of a half-hour, we re- 
sumed our seats, and the train got again under way. 

'• Courage," replied the Colonel, " like almost every thing else, 
is a thing of habit. A man who has for two years daily ex- 
pected every bush would give him a bullet, gets indifferent to 



GUERILLAS. 3T 

danger; but, after all, T had ratlier have death come at me face 
to face, than spring on me suddenly from beliind a rail fence." 

" It is barbarous — this guerilla system," I ren}arked, again 
dovetailing my legs within the Doctor's. 

" It's more than that — it's hellish," he replied ; " Jeff. Davis 
should be hung for inaugurating it." 

•' If you imagine," said the Colonel, " all the thieves and cut- 
throats of New York let loose upon the city, with unlimited 
license to kill, burn, and destroy, you will have a faint idea of 
what it is. The lowest dregs of society, our gamblers, horse- 
thieves, and criminals, make up these bands. Xow and then a 
respectable man, too cowardly to go into the regular army, joins 
them ; but he soon becomes as bad as the rest. They submit 
to no restraint, but range the country, plundci'ing and murder- 
ing friend and foe. If a worthless fellow has a grudge against 
a neighbor, he joins them, denounces his enemy as a Union- 
man, and stealing on him at night, either shoots him down be- 
fore his wife and children, or burns his house over his head. 
They spare neither sex nor age. Lone women are outraged, 
old men are murdered by them. I paid them eleven thousand 
five hundred dollars for my own life only last fall. Wherever 
they go terror reigns ; and more than one-half of this State and 
Tennessee is under their control. In fact, their raids extend 
even within the Union lines. Mounted on swift horses, they 
make a sudden dash on a picket-station, or a railway train, and 
are ten miles away before pursuit can be commenced." 

" And the King Devil among them is a Yankee," said the 
Doctor, smiling. 

" Is that true ?" 

" Yes — but don't be oftended. I know you export your 



38 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

meanest specimens ; and that our people have gome traits worse 
than yours. Tiie North loves gold — the South loves power; 
and the love of power is infinitely worse than the love of gold. 
One absorbs a man in self, but maizes him orderly, quiet, and 
law-abiding ; the other renders him restless, turbulent, and im- 
patient of control — ready to overturn every thing, human and 
divine, that stands in the way of his personal ambition. It 
led Satan to rebel in Heaven, and it made our leaders rise 
against the best Government on earth ; and, Sir, we cannot end 
this war until we serve them as the Lord served the devil — send 
them to h— 1 !" 

This was said with a warmth that, in one of the Doctor's cool 
temperament, surprised me ; but I merely remarked : 

" You would go too far. Strip them of their negroes — their 
power is in them — and they will be harmless. Eeduced to 
earning their bread by the sweat of their brows, they'll find 
no time to plot revolutions." 

" You are mistaken. Our people are ignorant, and ac- 
customed to being led by them. Seeing them impoverished, 
they'll pity them, and be just as much under their control as 
now. We must weed the whole race out of the South. I 
wouldn't hang them — they are too many for that ; but I'd 
expatriate every one of them. Until that is done, there'll 
be no lasting peace." 

" Well, it strikes me we'll have to catch the birds before we 
cage them." - * 

" And going on as we are going now we'll never catch them," 
remarked the Colonel ; " I sometimes think God has struck 
our rulers with judicial blindness to punish the nation for its 
sins. Why, Sir, I have half a dozen negro boys who could 



GUERILLAS. 39 

manage things better than they are managed at Washington. 
HaU-way measures — always acting a Uttle too late — scattering 
our forces over the whole continent, when we slioulJ concen- 
trate them against vital points, is ruining us ; and if it goes on, 
will make the South independent." 

" I can see where the Administration has blundered ; but it 
is easier to see mistakes than to suggest remedies. How would 
you suppress the Rebellion ?" 

"By calling out a million of men; and coming down on the 
South like an avalanche. That would end the war in ninety 
days. Now, with six hundred thousand on the outside of a 
circle, Ave are trying to whip four hundred thousand on the 
inside. It can never be done. The rebels can so quickly 
re- enforce any threatened point, that they will always be nu- 
merically superior where a battle is to be fought. It takes 
nearly half our present force to keep up our communications. 
Rosecrans here — our best General — has, perhaps, seventy-five 
thousand men, but thirty thousand are required to protect his 
lines of two hundred and fifty miles, and he is kept idle because 
he cannot bring into the field as many men as Bragg." 

" And do you think the rebels have four hundred thousand V 

" Every man of them ; and they can bring out another 
one hundred thousand, besides two hundred thousand negroes." 

" And dare they arm the negroes ?" 

" They do it now. The first company raised in Mem])his 
was of blacks. When they are driven to the wall, they'll put 
a musket into the hands of every negro within their lines, and 
make him fight. My own opinion is that the slave is to end 
this war. Each side will, use him. He'll be put in the front 
ranks, and the result will be the present generation will be 



40 • DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

exterminated. T5nis, thongli not in the Doctor's way, may be 
brought about the fate he predicts for the blacks." 

"God speed the day!" exclaimed the Doctor. "You see 
I'm an Abolitionist, Sir, but not one of the Yankee stripe." 

" I perceive you're not a negro worshipper ; but, Colonel, after 
the North has crushed out this immense force, how can it 
bring the Southern people into a cordial reunion with it ?" 

" They'll" come into it of 'themselves. Nine-tenths of the 
rank and file of the rebel army would gladly lay down their 
arms, and go peacefully back to their homes to-day. They 
have been misled and forced into this thing; their hearts are not, 
and never have been, in it. Only the leaders are irreconcilably 
in earnest. The Rebellion is merely a shell. We have but to 
crack it, to find it hollow. The Southern people have had 
false ideas of the Yankees — the war has made them know 
them better and like them better. Our masses had seen none 
but the sneaking, cowardly, money-loving kind. One of my 
own brothers-in-law is of that sort, lie got a hundred and 
fifty negroes by my sister, and the first thing he did was 
to whip one of them to death — an old house-servant, who had 
carried his wife in his arms when she was a child. He is now 
a rabid Secessionist, as are all of his class." 

" And who is this King Devil of the guerillas, as the Doctor 
calls him ?" 

" Plis name is Woodward. He was a schoolmaster at IIop- 
kinsville, Thurston County, Kentucky. He knew all the 
thieves and rascals in the district, and at the breaking out 
of the war raised a regiment of fifteen hundred among them 
and offered it to Mr. Davis. Davis refused it, because the men 
Avere not enlisted for three vedrs. Then AVoodward divided 



GUERILLAS. 41 

his force into squads of from twenty to two hundred, and 
overran the State. There are five or six thousand of these 
devils now, in this State and Tennessee, and some of their 
atrocities are past belief." 

" I have hcai'd something of them," I replied. " Parson 
Brownlow introduced me, at Cincinnati, to a number of East 
Tennessee refugees, who had suffered every thing but death at 
the hands of these men. One of them, a farmer by the name 
of Palmer, from near Pikeville, in Bledsoe County, was 
attacked by a party in his own house in the daytime. He 
killed two of them, but was shot in four places, and left 
for dead. His wife, who attempted to shield him, was 
also wounded ; but after incredible hardship got her husband 
to Lexington, and from there to Cincinnati, where the Parson 
secured .him a place as conductor on the street cars. "When I 
came through he was about to volunteer under Burnside, being 
determined to have vengeance for what he had suff'ercd. 
Another one was Knights, a noted scout, who has served under 
Eosecrans, and is now with Burnside. His adventures would 
make a history as interesting and strange as any romance. He 
has crossed the mountains as guide to Union men, escaping to 
join our army, seventy-two times ! and, though repeatedly 
shot, has been taken but o^jc. Then he escaped in a most 
wonderful way. 

" How was it ?" asked the Doctor. 

" He was captured by a small party while crossing Walden's 
Ridge. They at first decided to hang him on the spot, but 
finally, to obtain the reward offered for his capture, concluded 
to deliver him to the Confederate authorities at Knoxville. He 
was at once tried and sentenced to be hung. While he was in 



42 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

jail awaiting execution, his daughter was admitted to see him. 
He pretended to be unable to sit up, in consequence of a wound 
received when he was taken, and of course the daughter had to 
bend down to hear what he said. In these circumstances he 
managed, though a sentinel stood directly over him, to whis- 
per : ' Under your skirt — a coil ! — to-morrow !' She pro- 
cured a ' coil,' as he termed it, hid it under her clothes, and 
the next day went again to the jail. The sentinel refused to 
admit her, but the officer, softened by her entreaties to see her 
father for the last time — he was to be hung the next day — 
finally granted her an interview of five minutes. The soldier 
stood by all the while, as before, but while frantically embracing 
her father, she managed to convey the priceless rope under the 
bed-clothes. The night happened to be dark and storm)', the 
sentinels kept under shelter, and before morning, Knights, with 
three others, let himself down from the third story and escaped. 
He is past sixty, but as hale and vigorous as any young man 
you ever knew." 

" I'll never speak against women's hoops again," exclaimed 
the Doctor, " for once they've done the country service." 

" The East Tennesseeans have suffered ten-ibly," said the 
Colonel, " but the barbarities practised on them have been 
committed all over this section. |^ Wherever the guerillas have 
gone, they have left a trail of burning houses, and butchered 
men and women. Some of them are such monsters of crime 
that one is tempted to believe the Devil has become incarnate 
in long hair, slouched hat, and butternut trowsers. Over here 
in Clinton County, one named Champ Ferguson was recently 
killed, who, I suppose, had committed more murders than any 
man in the Union. Before the war he was a gambler, thief, 



GUEKILLAS. 4:3 

and . counterfeiter, <ind naturally joined the Rebellion. He 
organized a small band, and for more than a year committed 
unheard of atrocities unchecked. Reuben B. Wood, an aged 
citizen of Clinton County, had greatly befriended him. Fer- 
guson rode up to Wood's house one day in September, 1S61, 
called him out, and coolly told him he was going to kill him. 
' Oh, no ! Champ, yuu'U not do that ! I never done you any 
harm !' exclaimed the old man. 

" ' But you toted the d — d Lincoln flag at Camp Dick Rob- 
inson.' 

" 'Why, Champ,' said Wood, 'I almost raised you. I held 
you on my knee when you was a child.' 

" 'You're a d — d Lincoliiite,' said the monster, and shot 
him dead. 

" On another occasion he had a Union m^n by the name of 
Spangler lashed to a tree, and beaten to death. In April, 
1862, he and his band came upon a party of neighbors col- 
lected at a log raising in Fentress County.' He shot a number 
of them as they were attempting to escape, and took the rest 
prisoners. Then he bade his men hold each prisoner by the 
arms, and deliberately ripped open their bowels with a knife ! 
A man by the name of Fragge had incurred his enmity. He 
Avas confined to his bed, dangerously sick, his little child lying 
beside him, and his wife sitting near. Ferguson entered the 
room and told him he had come to kill him. Fragge pleaded 
for. life ; his wife entreated the ruffian to spare her husband, 
but he raised his pistol and gave him a severe wound. Fragge 
again entreated for life, but Fei'guson again raised his pistol, 
and while the sick man clasped his frightened child to his 
breast, shot him dead ! The wife supposing both husband and 



44 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

child killed, ran frantically from the house. Then Ferguson 
stole the dead man's clothes, and the blanket that covered his 
bed !" 

" Tell me no more ! You have said enough to convince 
me that all the passions of hell are 'let loose in this war.' " 

" They are. Men have become fiends. They thirst for 
blood. They gloat over their victims. The last drop of 
human feeling has gone out of them. Death and ruin follow 
them everywhere. They have made this lovely country a 

HELL !" 

We soon afterward arrived at Memphis Junction, and bid- 
ding me a kindly " good-by," and urging me to visit them if 
my time allowed, the Colonel and his companions left the car 
and took the train which was in waiting for Clarksville. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE UNION SCOtJT. 

The States of Kentucky and Tennessee have been made one 
vast battle-ground by this war. Every county and every 
township has been the scene of some fierce struggle, or the 
theatre of some bloody drama, whose memory will live for 
generations. Grass-grown cross-roads, where rude guide-posts 
point ways no traveller ever went ; sleepy hamlets, unknown to 
the census-taker and the tax-gatherer, where the spelling-book 
and the mail-bag never were seen ; lonely log meeting-houses, 
where some ignorant pastor doled out to a scanty crowd of 
more ignorant "white trash" weekly potions of "wholesome 
admonition," and — the country newspaper ; have become 
world-famous. Distant lands have heard of them ; distant 
times will speak of them, and romance and poetry will couple 
their names with heroic deeds, and make them holy places in 
our nation's history. 

At every station on the Nashville road the traveller sees 
indications of the fierceness of this struggle, and evidences of 
a valor worthy of the most heroic ages. At Mumfordsville, on 
a little mound overlooking the Green River, is a low earthwork 
encircled by a shallow ditch, and enclosing less than an acre of 
ground. There Colonel AVilder and a small band of raw 
Indianians arrested the northward march of Bragg's army for 
forty hours ! 



46 



DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



" Tt is the whole of Bragg's force ! It is madness to resist! 
We must surrender !" exclaimed one of Wilders lieutenants. 

"I know we must surrender. But we'll do it lohcn they 
make us,'^ replied the brave commander. 

Five thousand rebel muskets belched fire upon them during 
six hours, but crouching behind those mud walls that handful 
of brave men sent back a storm of hail that mowed down 
the advancing ranks as the scythe mows down the summer grass. 

"Surrender at once, or we'll give no quarter," was borne to 
them by the flag of truce. 

" We ask none," was the sole reply, and the work of death 
went on. 

Twelve thousand men, in ranks six deep, their bayonets 
gleaming in the sun, then enveloped, that little hill, and again 
and again, within eighty feet of that frail breastwork, pour- 
ed in their deadly volleys, but at each discharge clear and loud 
rang out the words: " Aim low, boys. Let every shot tell !" 
and broken and decimated the assailants fell back to their 
quarters. 

At sunrise of the third day another flag approached. " You 
are brave men. We would spare your lives. We have posted 
cannon at every angle. We can level your intrenchments in 
half an hour !" 

"I do not believe it; convince me of it, and I'll surrender." 

They led him out. He saw the guns, and surrendered. 

" If he had held out another half hour I should not be 
here to tell you of it," said the modest young corporal who told 
me the story. 

Into a stagnant pool at the left of the fort three hundred 
and fifty mangled rebels were thrown at nightfall. Seven hun- 



THE UNION SCOUT. 47 

dred now lie buried in the woods hard by. How great a 
graveyard for so small a town ! 

But I cannot particularize all that I saw, where at every 
bridge was a stockade, and on every hill a battle-field. 

Here and there broken cars and charred rolling-gear strewn 
along the track showed that the guerillas had been recently at 
work. At Bowling Green, in the bed of the Big Barren — a 
little stream which flows near the town — were the fragments 
of a train that, with its freight of mules, had been burned 
on the bridge only three weeks before, and at the station next 
south of Gallatin, was a similar wreck ; but, closing my eyes on 
these, relics of an almost savage warfjire, and these uncomforta- 
ble reminders of personal danger, I perched my legs on the 
seat just vacated by the Abolition philosopher, and soon fell 
asleep. 

I was dreaming of home, and of certain flaxen-haired 
juveniles who are accustomed to call me "Mister Papa," when 
a heavy hand was laid on my shoulder, and a gruff" voice said : 

" Doan't Avant ter 'sturb yer, stranger, but thar haint nary 
nother sittin' -place in the whole kear." 

I drew in my extremities, and he seated himself before me. 
He was a spare, muscular man of about forty, a little above the 
medium height, with thick sandy hair and beard, and a full, clear, 
gray eye. There was nothing about him to attract particular at- 
tention except his clothing, but that was so out of all keeping 
Avith the place and the occasion, that I opened my eyes to their 
fullest extent, and scanned him from head to foot. He Avore 
the gray uniform of a Secession officer, and in the breast of 
his coat, right over his heart, was a round hole, scorched at 
the edges, and darkly stained with blood ! Over his shoulder 



48 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

was slung a large army revolver, and at his side, in a leathern 
sheath, hung a weapon that seemed a sort of cross between a 
bowie-knife and a butcher's cleaver. On his head, surmounted 
by a black plume, was a moose-colored, slouched hat, and falling 
from beneath it, and tied under his chin, was a white cotton 
handkerchief stiffly saturated with blood ! Nine motley-clad 
natives, all heavily armed, had entered with him and taken the 
vacant seats around me, and at first view I was inclined to believe 
that in my sleep the train had gone over to the enemy and left 
me in the hands of the Philistines. I was, however, quickly re- 
assured, for, looking about I discovered the Union Guard and 
my fellow-travellers all in their previous places, and as uncon- 
cerned as if no unusual thing had happened. Still, it seemed 
singular that no officer had the new comer in charge ; and more 
singular that any one in the uniform he wore should be allowed 
to carry arms so freely about him. After a while, having 
gleaned all the knowledge of him that my eyes could obtain, I 
said in a pleasant tone : 

" AVell, my friend, you appear to take things rather coolly." 

" Oh, yes, Sir ! I orter. I've been mighty hard put, but I 
reckon I'm good fur a nother jiull now." 

" Where are you from 2" 

" Fentress County, nigh outer Jimtown (Jamestown). I'm 
scoutin' it fur Burnside — runnin' boys inter camp ; but these 
fellers wanted, ter jine Gunnel Brownlow — the old parson's 
son — down ter Triune. We put plumb fur Nashville, but hed 
ter turn norard, case the brush down thar ar thick with rebs. 
They'd like ter a hed us." 

"Oh, then you wear that uniform as a disguise on scouting 
expeditions ?" 



THE UNION SCOUT. . 49 

" No, Sir ; I never lied secli a rig on afore. I allcrs shows 
tbe true flag, an' tliar haint no risk, case, ye see, the whole 
deestrict down thar ar Union folks, an' ary one on 'em would 
liouse'n me ef all Buckncr's army wus at my heels. But this 
time they run me powerful close, an' I hed ter show the 
secesh rags." 

As he said this he looked down on his clean, unworn suit of 
coarse gray, with ineffable contempt. 

" And how could you manage to live with such a hole there?" 
I asked, pointing to the bullet rent in his coat. 

" Oh ! I warn't inside uv 'em jest then, though I warrant me 
he war a likely feller thet war. I ortent ter a done hit — but 
I hed ter. This war he ;" and taking from his side pocket a 
small miniature, he handed it to me. 

It was a plain circlet of gold, attached to a piece of blue 
ribbon. One side of the rim was slightly clipped, as if it had 
been grazed by the passing ball, and the upper portion of the 
ivory was darkly stained with blood ; but enough of it was un- 
obscured to show me the features of a young man, Avith dark, 
flowing hair, and a full, frank, manly face. With a feeling akin 
to horror I was handing the picture back to the scout, when in 
low, stammering tones he said to mc : — ' 

" 'Tother side. Sir ! Luk at 'tother side." 

I turned it over, and saw the portrait of a young woman, 
scarcely more than seventeen. She had a clear, transparent 
skin, regular, oval features, full, swimming, black eyes, and, 
what must have been dark, wavy brown hair, but changed then 
to a deep auburn by the red stains that tinged the upper part of 
the picture. With intense loathing, I turned almost fiercely on 
the scout, and exclaimed : " And you killed that man ?" 



50 DCtWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" Yep, Sir, God forguv me — I done hit. But I couldn't help 
hit. He hed me down — he'd eut me thar," tuniing up his 
sleeve, and displaying a deep wound on his arm ; " an' thar !" 
removing the bandage, and showing a long gash back of his 
ear. " His arm wus riz ter strike agin — in another minhit he'd 
hev cluv my brain. I seed hit, Sir, an' I fired ! God forguv 
me — I fired ! I wouldn't a done hit ef I'd a knowd thet," and 
he looked down on the face of the sweet young girl, and the 
moisture came into his eyes : " I'd hev shot 'im somewhar but 
yere — somewhar but ycre /" and laying his hand over the rent 
in his coat, he groaned as if he felt the wound. With that 
blood-stained miniature in my hand, and listening to the broken 
words of that ignorant scout, I realized the horrible barbarity 
of war. 

After a pause of some minutes he resumed the conversation. 

" They killed one oh our boys. Sir ?" 

"Did they! How was it?" 

" Wal Sir, ye see they b'long round the Big Fork in Scott 
County; and bein's I war down thar, an' they know'd I war a 
runnin' recruits over the mountins ter Burnside, they tolled 
me they wanted me ter holp 'em git -'long with they oung Cun- 
*neL They'd ruther a notion ter him — an' he ar a feller thet 
haint growd everywhar — 'sides all the folks down thar swar by 
the old Parson." 

" Well, they ought to, for he's a trump," I remarked good- 
humoredly, to set the native more at his ease. 

" Ye kin bet high on thet ; he haint nothin' else," he replied, 
leaning forward and regarding me with a pleased, kindly ex- 
pression. " Every un down ray way used ter take his joaper ; 
thet an' the Bible war all they ever seed, an' they reckoned one 



THE UNION SCOUT. 51 

war 'bout so good as 'tother. Wall, the boys thort I could git 
'em through — an' bein's it made no odds to me xvhar they jined, 
so long as they did jine, I 'greed ter du hit. We put out ten 
days, yisterday — twelve on 'em, an' me — an' struck plumb far 
Nashville. We lay close daytimes, 'case, though every hous'n 
ar Union, the kentry is swarmin' with Buckner's men, an' we 
know'd they'd let slide on us jest so soon as they could draw a 
bead. We got 'long right smart till we fetched the Roaring 
River, nigh outer Livingston. We'd 'quired, an' hedu't heerd 
uv ary rebs bein' round; so, foolhardy like, thet eveniu' we tuk 
ter the road 'fore hit war clar dark. We hedu't gone more'n a 
mile till we come slap outer 'bout eighty Secesh calvary. We 
skedaddled fur the timber, powerful sudden ; but they war over 
the fence an' on us, 'fore we got well under cover. 'Bout thirty 
on 'em slid thar nags, an' come at us in the brush. 1 seed 
twaru't no use runnin'; so I yelled out : ' Stand yer ground, 
boys, an' sell yer lives jest so high as ye kin !' Wall, we went 
at hit ter close quarters — hand ter hand, an' fat ter fut — an' ye'd 
better b'lieve thar war some tall fightin' thar far 'bout ten 
minhits. Our boys fit like fien's — thet little chunk uv a feller 
thar," pointing to a slim, pale-faced youth, not more than 
seventeen, " laid out three on 'em. I'd done up two myself, 
when the Capt'n come outer me — but, I've tellcd ye 'bout him ;" 
and drawing a long breath, he put the miniature back in his 
pocket. After a short pause he continued : — 

" When they seed the Capt'n war done for, they fell back a 
piece — them as war left on 'em — ter the edge uv the timber, an' 
hollered fur 'tothers ter come on. Thet guv us time ter load 
up — we'd fit arter the fust fire wuth knives — an' we blazed inter 
'em. Jest as we done Lit, I heer'd some more calvary corain' 



52 DOWN IN TENNESSEE, 

up the road, an' I war jest tellin' the boys we'd hev ter make 
tracks, when the new fellers sprung- the fence, an' come plumb 
at the Secesh on a dead run. Thar warn't only thirty on 'em, 
yit the rebs didn't so much as make a stand, but skedaddled as 
ef Old Rosey himself had been arter 'em." 

"And who were the new comers?" 

"'Some on Tinker Beaty's men. They'd heerd the firin' nigh 
two mile off, an' come up suspicionin' how things wus." 

" But, are there Union bands there ? I thought East Tennes- 
see was overrun with rebel troops." 

"Wall, hit ar; but thar's a small chance uv Union goorillas 
in Fentress and Overton county. They hide in the mountins, 
an' light down on the rebs, now an' then, like death on a sick 
parson. Thar is places in them deestricts thet a hundred men 
kin hold agin ten thousand. They know 'em all, case they wus 
raised thar, an' they know every bridle-path through the woods, 
so its well nigh unpossible ter kotch 'em. I reckon -thar's a 
hundred on 'em, all mounted, an' bein's as they hain't no tents, 
nor wagins, nor camp fixin's they git round might)' spry. 
Thar scouts is allers on the move, an' wharever thar's a showin', 
they pounce down on the rebs, cuttin' 'em ter pieces. Thet's 
the how they git powder an' provisions. They never trouble 
peaceable folk, an' haint no sort o' 'spense ter Guverment ; but 
they does a heap uv damage ter the Secesh." 

" Well, they did you a 'powerful' good turn." 

" They did thet ; but we lost one on our boys. He war only 
sixteen — brother ter thet feller thar," pointing to a young man 
sitting opposite. " They hung his father, an' now — they's 
killed him," and he drew a deep sigh. 

" Why did they hang his father «" 



THE UNION SCOUT. 53 

" Wall, ye see, they kunsciipted him — he war over age, hut 
they don't mind thet — an' he desavted, meanin' ter git ter the 
Union lines. They kotched him in the woods, an' hung him 
right up ter a tree." 

" Was only one of your men hurt ?" 

Yes, two on 'em wus wounded too bad ter come wuth us. 
The calvary toted 'em off ter the mountins, an' I reckon they'll 
jine 'em when they gits round. But we left elevin uv the rcbs 
dead on the ground." 

" Did your men kill so many ? The cavalry had a hand in 
that, I suppose ?" 

"Yes, they killed two — thet's all. They couldn't git at 'em, 
they run so. We done the rest." 

" You must have fought like tigers. How many were 
wounded ?" 

" Nary one ; what wan't dead the boys finished." 

"You don't mean to say that your men killed the wounded 
after the figlit .<?" 

" I reckon they did — some four on 'em." 

" My friend, that's nothing but murder. I had hoped th^ 
rebels did all of that work." 

" Wall, they does — anuff on hit ; an' I never could bring my 
mind ter think it war right or human : but I s'pose thet's case 
I never hed a father hung, or a sister ravig'd, or a old mother 
shot down in bar bed. Them things, you knows, makes a dif- 
ference." 

" And have any of your men suffered in such ways ?" 

" In sech ways ? Thar haint one on 'em but kin tell you 
things 'ud turn yer blood ter ice. D'y'^ ^^^ thet feller thar?" 
pointing to a thin, sallow faced man, two seats in our rear. 



54: DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" Not two months gone, some twenty rebs come ter liis house 
while he war hiyin' out in the woods, an' toted his wife — as 
young an' puvty a 'oraan as yer own sistei* — off 'bout a mile, an' 
thar tuk thar will uv her — all on 'em ! She made out ter crawl 
home, but it killed har. He warn't wuth har when she died, 
an' hit wus well he warn't, fur he'd hov gone clean crazy ef he 
lied been. He's mor'n half thet now — crazy fur blood ! An' 
kin ye blame him? Kin ye 'spect a man thet's hed sech 
things done ter him ter show quarter? 'Taint in natur ter do 
hit. All these boys hes hed jest sich, an' things like hit ; an' 
they go in ter kill or be kilt. They doan't ax no marcy, an' they 
doan't show none. Nigh twenty thousand on 'em is in Burn- 
side's an' old Roscy's army, an' ye kin ax them if they doan't 
fight like devils. The iron has entered thar souls. Sir. They 
feel they's doin' God sarvice — an' they is — when they does fur a 
secesh. An' when this war ar over — ef it ever ar over — thar'll 
be sech a reckonin' wuth the rebs uv East Tennessee as creation 
never know'd on afore. Thar won't l>e one on 'em left this 
side uv hell !" This was said with a vehemence that startled 
^le. His eyes actually blazed, and every line on his seamed 
face quivered with passion. To change the subject, I asked: 

" And what did you do after the fight ?" 

"Not knowin' what moight happen, we swapped does with 
sech uv the rebs as hed gray 'uns, an' put North — plumb fur 
the mountins. Nigh outer Meigsville we come outer a Union 
man, who holped us ter cut some timber, an' make a raft — fur 
we 'lowed the Secesh would track us wuth houns, an' ter throw 
'em off the scent we hed ter take ter the water. We got inter 
Obey's Fork, an' floated down ter the Cumberland ; hidin' in 
the bushes in the day time, an' floatin' at night. We got nigh 



THE UNION SCOUT. 55 

outer Carthage, an' knowin' the river wan't safe no longer, we 
left hit an' struck 'cross fur the railroad. Thet kentry ar full 
uv rebs, but hevin' the Secesh does on, we made out ter git 
'nuff" ter eat till we got yere." 

We had crossed the Cumberland, and were then approaching 
Nashville. Its beautiful suburbs, though covered with tlic oavly 
foliage of spring, wore a most desolate appearance. Magnifi- 
cent villas were heaps of ruins ; splendid plantations and 
charming gardens were overrun with weeds. How fearfully 
have their owners expiated the mad crime of Secession ! How 
have they sown the wind and reaped the whirlwind ! 

At the station-house we ran the gauntlet of another set of 
military officials. Passes were examined and luggage was 
looked into, but after a while the Colonel and I squeezed out 
of the crowd, and into an omnibus. " I go to the ' Com- 
mercial,' " he said to me. " I've tried the ' St. Cloud,' and I'm 
disposed to see if the other is quite so bad." 

" Well, I'll go with you. I'm familiar with Southern hotels, 
and don't ex}>ect much." 

If I had expected much, I should have been disappointed; 
for truth compels me to say — and I've been somewhat of a 
traveller and seen strange lodging-places in my time — that the 
" Commercial Hotel" of Nashville is the filthiest, buggiest 
house, public or private, I ever passed a night in. In any 
Northern town it would be indicted as a nuisance, calculated to 
breed pestilence and bad morals among the people. Biscuit, 
heavy as lead; steak, tough as leather; coffee, thick as mud; 
and corn-cake so saturated with smoke that all its original flavor 
had departed, was its unvarying bill of fare. No, not unvary- 
ing, for a small fee to the ebony waiter did procure me some 



56 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

strawberries, and for them I blessed him, and of them I made 
my supper. 

Being fotigued with my journey, I asked, early in the even- 
ing, to be shown to a room, and a servant conducted me to a 
dingy apartment in the rear of the house, where I had full ad- 
vantage of all the fames and perfumes of the kitchen. Its 
dimensions were about eight feet by twelve, and its walls were 
smeared with soot and tobacco juice. The bare floor, which 
had never known a mop or a scrubbing-brush, was coated with 
a layer of soil thick enough to raise a crop of potatoes — but 
the bed, and the curtains, and the linen ! (though, to be exactly 
truthful — it wasn't linen) — these I must leave to the reader's 
imagination, for no description would do them justice. Suffice 
it to say that after an hour's persistent effort, I did effect some 
improvement in them ; and then, " wrapping the drapery of my 
couch" about me, I lay down, but not to "pleasant dreams;" 
for at that moment the darkies in the barber's shop below stairs 
struck up " de banjo an' de bones," and for two mortal hours I 
was forced to listen to all the Ethiopian songs, written and un- 
written, in existence. In sheer desperation I finally rose, took 
a seat by the windoAV, and to the intense delight of the sable 
melodists, joined in the refrains. To give the reader an idea 
of what I had to endure, and of what " public sentiment" 
among the darkies of Nashville may be supposed to be, I sub- 
join one of the songs, Avhich I tried to take down in the dark : 

"I'll sing you a song to suit de times, 
Called bobbin around, around, around; 

You'll see dar'g reason in de rliymes, 
As dey gwo bobbin' around. 

Ole Roscy's down in Tennessee, 
Bobbin' around, around, around ; 



THE UNION SCOUT. S7 

An' settin' all de darkies free, 
As he gwo bobbin' around. 

"Ile'm straddled on de big ole gray, 

Bobbin' around, around, around; 
An' all Secesh — dey clar de way, 

As he gwo bobbin' around ; 
Dey yere de Union fife and drum, 

Bobbin' around, around, around ; 
An' know de judgment-day am come, 

"Wen dey am bobbin' around. 

" Olo massa see dat ole war boss. 

Bobbin' around, around, around; 
Says he : ' You Pomp — it all am loss, 

Fur Rosey's bobbin' around 1' 
He use to cut a mighty dash, 

Bobbin' around, around, around, 
But den he tuk a brandy-smash, 

An' did'gwo bobbin' around. 

" He bob so bad dat down he feU, 

Bobbin' around, around, around ; 
An ' neber riz dis side ob — well — 

Dis side — a bobbin' around. 
He leflf dis nig ahind to play. 

Bobbin' around, around, around ; 
I reckon he'll play it all de day, 

An' den — gwo bobbin' around. 

" Come all you darkies jiue de song, 

Bobbin' around, around, around. 
You aU am free — so gwo it strong, 

As you gwo bobbin' around. 
De big Secesh no more will be 

Bobbin' around, around, around ; 
Fur Rosey's down in Tennessee, 

An' he am bobbin' around." 

It was nearly eleven o'clock when the good-natured darljey 
who led the minstrels, put his head out of the window, and said 



58 IX)WN IN TENNESSEE. 

to me: "Now, massa, we'll 'elude de ex'cises ob de evenin' 
by singin' Ole John Brown, wid de variations ; and you'm 'spcc'- 
fully 'vited to jine de chorus." 

I did "jine do chorus," and therefore the reader is deprived 
of the " variations," which I might otherwise have committed 
to paper. However, if he is curious about them I can gratify 
him with others quite as good, for while I was in Tennessee I 
assisted at the martyrdom of " Ole John Brown" at least twenty 
times, and each time it was done with " variations." 

Nothing, perhaps, so forcibly illustrates the progress of eman- 
cipation sentiment in the army, and among the people of Ten- 
nessee, as the wonderful popularity of that song. It is sung by 
every one, high and low, and everywhere its spirit is felt. Truly 
John Brown s " soul is a marching on!" 



TifE NASHVILLE PEISON. 59 



CHAPTER V. 



THE NASHVILLE PRISON. 



The next day was Sunday. I rose early, and going down to 
the office found my friend the Colonel already stirring, "Ah," 
he said, as I bade him " good-morning," " I'm in luck. An 
orderly has come in with my horse, and an ambulance goes 
out under an escort this morning. In half an hour I shall be 
off." 

[Triune was distant only eighteen miles, but the road was 
infested with guerillas, and was unsafe for single travellers.] 

" I am glad for that, on your account, but sorry on my own. 
I had reckoned on your aid in procuring access to my friends 
at the prison." 

" You'll have no difficulty about that. Call on Colonel Martin 
at the Capitol ; tell him who you are, and he'll give you a 
permit." 

After breakfast, with mutual expressions of good-will we 
parted. I have formed many agreeable acquaintances while 
travelling, but never one more agreeable than the sturdy Indiana 
Colonel. He had a frank, glowing, genial nature that attracted 
me irresistibly to him, just as one is attracted to a warm wood 
fire on a winter evening. Indeed he is somehow associated in 
my mind with a generous wood fire — one of the glorious, old- 
fashioned kind ; of oaken logs, piled high on a broad hearth, 
and giving out oxygen enough to supply a small village. 



60 DOWN m TENNESSEE,* 

When he was gone, tlie landlord said to me, " If you don't 
know none of the tnililary folk, Sir, you stand a sorry chance of 
gittin' inter the prison. Ye see, they karn't admit them as 
they don't know. 'Twouldn't do, nohow." 

If that was true, I was in a dilemma. I had provided against 
such a contingency by taking with me, on leaving home, half a 
dozen introductory letters to Governor Johnson, but that gen- 
tleman was not in Nashville, and might not arrive for a week, 
therefore they were of no present value. 

As I sat down to ponder over " the situation," I suddenly 
remembered having heard that the son of an old friend was an 
officer in a Tennessee regiment. " Landlord," I said, address- 
ing the publican — (he told me he was also a Re-publican, but 
other trustworthy persons assured me that he was a rabid 
rebel. This I thought accounted for the filtliy condition of 
his establishment). " Landlord," I said, " can you tell me where 
the Tennessee is stationed ?" 

" Here, Sir ; 'bout two miles out — nigh to Fort Negley." 

This was agreeable news, and writing a few lines to the 
young Tennesseean, in which I alluded to my long friendship 
with his father, and asked him " to come over and help" me. 
I despatched a messenger at once to the camp. In about an 
hour the negro returned, but with the unwelcome tidings that 
" de Cap'n am off, Sar ; off scoutiu' it, Sar, and dey doan't know 
when he'll be back, but dey reckon he'll come yere, d'recly he 
come, Sar ; d'recly he come, Sar." 

The morning was passing away while I was thus casting 
about for an escort, and at last I determined to do what I should 
have done at fir^t — set out alone. 

As I climbed the steep hill which leads to the Capitol, I was 



THE NASHVILLE PRISON. 61 

struck with the gloomy aspect of the silent, sombre houses, and 
the noiseless, deserted streets. It was a bright, summer-like 
day, and near the hour for morning service ; but, with the 
exception of a solitary soldier, or a smartly-dressed darkey, saun- 
tering idly along, no one was abroad. The white population had 
mostly fled, and the few that remained welcomed the " Nor- 
thern intruders" with bolted doors and barred windows. I 
realized I was walking the streets of a conquered city. Arrived 
at the Capitol — an imposing^ pile of white marble, more spacious 
and beautiful than any similar edifice in the Northern States — I 
found myself under the walls of a huge fortress, frowning with 
cannon and encircled with breastworks. Its marble steps were 
flanked by stockades, and its broad battlements crowned with 
artillery, which, from jts elevated position, commanded the 
entire town and surrounding suburbs. In the distance, the 
Casino and Forts Ncgley and Confiscation looked down from 
rocky elevations, and beyond them a broad belt of military 
camps engirdled the captive city. To my unpractised eye the 
defences seemed, as they no doubt are, impregnable, and with 
what emotions must they be contemplated by Nashville's to- 
bacco lords, who skulking back from exile in Dixie, stand now 
and then on those neighboring hills, and look down on the 
homes their own mad • treason has shut them out from for- 
ever. 

Approaching the sentinel at the principal stairway, I said : 
"Will you tell me where to find Colonel Martin?" 

" An shoore an' I 'will, Sir. Poller the grand hall till ye 
come forninst the Guv'ner's room — ye'U spy it over the dhoor, 
thin, say nothin' to nobody, but go straight in, Sir, an' ax fur 
the Gunnel, an' ye'U have him." 



62 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" Thank you. And pray, what brought you here — all the 
way from auld Ireland." 

"Fath, yer honor, an' I come to fight — to fight for the nay- 
gur ;" and he slirugged his shoulders, as if what lie said might 
not be strictly true. 

" You don't mean that." 

" Troth, an' I does. I niver loiked the black divils — though 
them as is here hain't black, fur they's yaller — till I come out 
-to fight fur 'em ; but I've sort o' takin' to 'em since. An 
Irishman, ye knows, if he's niver a hapenny in his pocket, has 
allers a feller feclin' fur a poor divil as is poorer thin he is — an' 
sorry a bit of any thing in the world has the naygur. He don't 
own his own children, Sir ; not avin the flesh on his bones." 

" Your kindred, where I live, are not of your way of thinking." 

" An' where may that be, yer honor ?" 

"In New York." 

" Oh, yis, I know ■; they's all Dimocrats there, an' Fernandy 
Wud Dimocrats at that — bad luck to thim. If you'd loike to 
kinvart 'em, Sir, jest send 'em out here. I warrant ye they 
won't be four an' twenty 'oours in the State till they's Black 
Republicans — as black as the naygnrs themselves. An Irish- 
man's a heart in him, Sir, an', be gorry, he can't see the poor 
craytures wid his own eyes widout havin' a feller feelin' fur 
'em." 

" Well, good-by, and good luck to you." 

" Good-by, an' good luck to yersclf, yer honor ;" and he 
called out as I passed up the stairway, " Go straight on, yer 
honor, an' say nothin' to nobody ; but ax fur the Gunnel, an' 
ye'U find him, right forninst the Guv'ner's room, ye mind, its 
over the dhoor." 



THE NASHVILLE PEISON. 63 

I found the "Governor's room," in blazing gilt, " over the 
dhoor," and entered the opposite apartment. I had less ditli- 
culty than I had anticipated in procuring access to the prison. 
The potent " open sesame" were certain names I carried in my 
pocket, and in less than half an hour I was on my way elate 
with the expectation of shortly seeing "my Southern friends." 

The Nashville Penitentiary was burned at the taking of the 
city by the Union forces. The building now used as a State 
Prison is located about a mile outside of the city limits, and is 
of brick, surrounded by a high wall covering an area of perhaps 
two acres. It was built, as I learned from a marble slab im- 
bedded in the wall over the doorway, in 1828, and looks sub- 
stantial enough to last for a dozen centuries. As I approached 
its broad entrance-way, I saw at my right, in a spacious yard 
surrounded by a low stone fence, a hundred or more motley- 
uniformed Confederates, engaged in the favorite out-door occu- 
pations of their class, such as " seven-up," " quoits," " pitch and 
toss," and " chuck-a-luck." A sad-visaged man, dressed in seedy 
black, was pacing to and fro among them, now and then paus- 
ing to gaze abstractedly at the players, and again walking on, 
his eyes fixed on the distance, as if searching for some sign of 
" the good time" which every mortal thinks is " coming." To 
him, poor man, it is a long way off, for he will not go out, he 
says, until the South is independent. He was the political 
editor of The Baptist Standard, and refusing to take the oath 
of allegiance, has been confined there seven long months. A 
few xuore decently clad persons were in the assemblage, but 
much the larger portion were the most wretched specimens of 
" white trash" I had ever seen. In all sorts of habiliments — • 
coatless, hatless, shoeless, with matted hair and dirt-incrusted 



64 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

faces, they seemed recently exhumed from some pig-sty or 
barn-yard. Love of " our native soil," with them, was evidently 
a living sentiment. 

Passing on, I asked the guard at the doorway to call the 
keeper. That gentleman soon appeared, and I made known to 
him my business. 

" No persons of those names are here, or have been here. 
Sir !" 

And such is the vanity of human pursuits ! I had travelled 
a thousand miles on a fruitless errand ! Vexed and disappointed, 
I was turning away, when the keeper politely said : 

"You look tired; won't you walk in and sit down?" 

I followed him Into the prison, and after I had rested a while 
he invited me to look through it. It is in two divisions, one 
devoted to criminals, the other to prisoners of war. None of 
the latter are confined in cells, but, during the day, are allowed 
to range freely over the yard and the several floors of the build- 
ing. At night they are locked into roomy apartments, where 
often a dozen, and sometimes twenty, camp down together on 
straw mattresses spread on the floor. The sleeping accommo- 
dations are not much to boast of, but they are, no doubt, far 
superior to what the prisoners are accustomed to in Dixie. As 
we were passing over the second floor the keeper said to me : 

" In the further room is the Colonel of the first Tennessee 
cavalry — Colonel Brewer, formerly a lawyer in this place. He 
was taken at Brentwood, some five weeks ago. He is a very 
sociable, gentlemanly man, and would be glad to see you. Will 
you go in ?" 

" No, thank you, I'll not intrude upon him." 

" He'll consider it no intrusion. I'll ask him." 



THE NASHVILLE PKISON. 65 

He rapped at tbe door and a voice called out, " Come in." 

"Ah, Colonel, good-morning," said tbe keeper, stepping into 
the apartment. " I'm showing this gentleman over the building. 
He's right from the North, and I knew you'd like to see him." 

" Most certainly I should. Ask him in." 

As I entered, the prisoner measured me with a rapid glance; 
then, withoat rising, held out his hand, saying cordially, "I'm 
glad to see you. Sir; pray be seated. Mr. Keeper, be so good 
as to hand a chair." 

" No, excuse me. Sir," I replied ; " I'll not stay ; I'll not in- 
trude on you in your present circumstances." 

" My present circumstances are the very reason you should. 
Sir. I see no one, except tbe sentinel, from one week to an- 
other. I've nothing to look at but these blank walls, and the 
' human face divine' has grown wonderfully attractive to me. 
It's as pleasant as thoughts of home. So pray, sit down. 
I'll return the tiivor to the first one of your ' countrymen' who 
falls into my hands." 

Thus entreated, I could not decline. As I took the proffered 
seat, I glanced around the apartment. It was spacious and 
well lighted by mullioned windows. Along its sides were 
ran2:ed half a dozen camp beds ; and as many chairs, and two 
small tables straggled about the floor. Its walls were not over- 
cleanly, but the floor was nicely sanded, and the whole had a 
tidy, comfortable appearance. It was evidently reserved for 
the better class of political prisoners. Its occupant was a 
man of about thirty-five, and of decidedly prepossessing appear- 
ance. He had a fine, intellectual face, and long brown hair, as 
soft and glossy as a woman's ; but a full, daiic eye, wide, strong- 
jaws, and a firmly cut mouth, showed him possessed of a manly, 



66 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

determined character. I saw at a glance that he was no com- 
mon man. He was dressed in the Confederate uniform, and as 
he lay on the outside of a cot, in a haU-recumbent attitude, he 
every now and then moved uneasily, as if in pain. Seeing this 
I said : 

" Are you wounded ?" 

" Yes ; your boys gave me a pill when they captured me. 
The ball entered here," opening his shirt, and showing a large 
scar just below his heart. " The flesh has healed, but the ribs 
are not yet well knit together. It bothers me some to keep an 
easy position. But, tell me, what is your name, and where do 
you live ?" 

I told him. 

"And do you know a gentleman of your name — let me see, 
what is his first name? , I think," 

" I can't say that I know him, though I ought to. I'm the 
man himself." 

" You arc !" and raising himself on his elbow he shook me 
again warmly by the hand. " I'm delighted to know you. I've 
heard Dick speak often of you." 

" I know him well ; we were intimate friends for twenty 
years." 

" So he's told me. We've been all through the war together. 
He's a prince of a fellow. Davis has just made him a general. 
But he says you've turned Abolitionist." 

" Not exactly that ; but I go for putting you rebels down, 
and I think it can't be done without taking away your slaves." 

" But you can't put us down," he replied, good-humoredly ; 
" you'li have to crush our military power before you reach the 
darkies, and i/ou ought to know you can't do that." 



THE NASHVILLE PRISON. 67 

" I don't know it. It's a mere question of time and num- 
bers; three against one are sure to conquer in the long run." 

"When the tliree have brains; but, you see, your three 
haven't." 

"I know your generals have tlius far .shown more ability 
than ours ; but occasions are sure to develop men, though it 
may take time. How long was it before the English Revolu- 
tion produced Cromwell, and the French, Napoleon ?" 

"A long time, I know. But generals are not what you 
want. You have them now. You have Rosecrans, and Banks, 
and Grant, and little Phil. Sherridan down there at Murfrees- 
boro. Either of them is a match for any leader we have, and 
Rosecrans is head and" shoulders above any general on this 
continent, JTe has a great, organizing, military mind. He 
checkmate'd Lee so handsomely in Western Virginia that Lee 
himself isn't ashamed to own it. liwe had him we'd whip you 
in ninety days ; but you shut him up, without supplies or horses, 
where he can do nothing, and where our cavalry can walk round 
him, as a clown walks round the pole at a circus. It is not gen- 
erals you want. You want brains. You want an Administrati'on." 

"But we think we have one," I answered, laughing; "slow, 
it may be, but sure ; and ' as honest as the times allow.' " 

" Slow, it's true ; but — honest ! Talk of its being honest, 
with Stanton in it ! a man as corrupt as sin, as venal as a Tombs 
lawyer ! and as ignorant as a darkey. And you trust the man- 
agement of a great war to him ! But, it suits us exactly. It 
convinces me the Almighty means we shall be free." 

"But never will be free. Your Government is a despotism 
already, and whatever may be said of ours, our liberties are safe 
with it." 



68 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" Liberties ! There's an awful amount of cant about that 
word. Our people are as free as people should be. This idea 
of universal suffrage — making a small sovereign of every 
ignorant clodhopper who comes into the country, is played 
out. We've tried it under the old Government, and had 
enough of it. Republican institutions are a fiiilure, and you'll 
be convinced of it before many years." 

A two hours' conversation, ranging over these and- kindred 
subjects, ensued between the Colonel and myself, and in the 
course of it he stated, that it is the purpose of the* rebel 
leaders to found an elective monarchy, and that they had that 
design at the inception of the Rebellion. " I own no slaves," 
he said, " and am therefore not personally interested in sustain- 
ing the institution. I am fighting for something that I can 
leave to those after me — a title that can be perpetuated in my 
family ; and I know, whether I live or die, I shall be success- 
ful ; for, if I am killed, my country will do me justice in my 
children." 

He spoke freely and openly of this. " I am willing," ho 
said, " that all mankind should know it. The time has gone 
by when it was policy to conceal it from our poorer classes. 
We have them now where they must submit, and with the rest, 
of the world — England, France, Spain, and even Russia, which 
now so cottons to the North — it will vastly help us." 

He expressed the opinion that a rupture is imminent between 
England and the United States. "England, till now, has 
•covertly played into our hands. She will soon throw off the 
mask, and do overt acts that will make war inevitable, if the 
Northern people have a spark of manhood or self-respect 
left." 



THE NASHVILLE PKISON, 69 

If Viclcsburg had not fallen — if Lee had not been defeated — 
if the Copperhead leaders had not been foiled in their attempt 
to force New York into the Rebellion, what the rebel Colonel 
predicted might, ere this, have proved true. 



70 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



C H A P T E R YI. 



THE 'AIIMT CHAPLAIN. 



Walking slowly back through the open fields, I came, at the 
distance of a short half mile from the prison, upon the white 
tents of a regiment of infantry. A few sentinels were pacing 
to and fro among them, but they were otherwise deserted. 
ISTear by, however, under the broad bi-anches of a mammoth 
maple, the denizens of the canvas city were gathered around a 
spare, gray-haired, thin-visagcd man, dressed in a stiff black 
stock, a check ncyVujc shirt, and blue lower garments, who, in 
his shirt sleeves, was holding forth on the beauties of Freedom. 
Attracted by his earnest manner, and his rich, mellow voice, 
which rang out on the still air like the call of a buo-le on the 
eve of battle, I joined the half-a-thousaiid martial auditors, 
who, seated on camp-stools, leaning on muskets, or lolling on 
the thick green grass which carpeted the ground, were drink- 
ing in his words as if they were the notes of an opera singer. 

"I am tired and disgusted," he said, " with this endless talk 
about the everlasting negro. I doubt not he is a man, witli 
very much such blood, and bones, and brains, and soul as we 
have. I doubt not his destiny is linked with ours — and that in 
the coming life many, very many of his sooty race will hold the 
highest seats in the synagogue, and look down on us as we now 
look down on them. But that is no reason why we should wor- 
ship him — no reason why we should settle him comfortably in 



THE AEMY CIIArLAIN. 71 

his master's easy chair, and let him idle away his life smok- 
ing bad tobacco and drinking mean whiskey, while we are 
fighting for his freedom. No, boys, give him freedom — every 
man, whatever his color, is entitled to that — but make him 
fight for it. Make him do what we have to do — work out our 
own salvation on hard tack and salt pork, with often not half 
enough of that. Tell him that John Brown is a marching on, 
but ' marching on' over Tennessee roads, with sore feet and 
weary legs, and the mud over his boots ; and tell him, too, that 
the black man, if he w^ould be free, must follow where John 
Brown leads. If he will not do this — give him Ilail Columbia, 
and never let his ugly tacc be seen among you again. 

" And those of you who worship the ebony idol, who in 
pity for the wrongs 'of the black forget that our own race lias 
greater wrongs and deeper woes than his, let me tell you what 
is worthy of your w'orship — what all good and true men, in all 
times, have worshipped — what they have fought, and suftered, 
and died for, with songs on their lips and joy in their hearts— 
and then, if you persist in shutting your eyes to ever}- thing in 
heaven and earth but the black man, you are past all hope, and 
— ' may God have mercy on your souls.' 

" What I would have you worship is Freedom — tvhife Free- 
dom — Freedom for All Men. Poets have sung of it as a 
beautiful maiden, glowing as the dawn, radiant as the stars, 
smiling as the svm when he first looked on the earth. They 
have said that her throne is the glory of Heaven, her liglit the 
hope of the world ; that her home is the bosom of God, her 
resting-place the hearts of men; that she has cro%vned the 
earth with beauty, and 'filled its-dwellings with joy; that its 
fragrant fields waft her incense, and its gorgeous cities speak 



72 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

her praise ; that on lowly cots and lofty mansions, on teeming 
workshops and hallowed temples, her name is written — written 
in letters that will outlast the marble, and grow in splendor 
forever. And this is true ; but, I have seen her stripped of her 
glory — a wanderer and a fugitive in the earth. I have seen her 
fleeing from the haunts of men, and hiding away among the 
roclis and caves of the wilderness. I have seen her back 
scarred with lashes, and her limbs quivering with pain ; her soul 
racked with anguish, and her body tortured with fire ; I have 
seen her weeping like Rachel for her children — weeping amid 
the ruins of all she loved ; and, worse than this, I have seen 
her fainting in her misery and grovelling in her shame, and I 
have heard her deny the God who made her and the heaven 
from which she came ! 

" And all this I have seen here — in this land, every inch of 
A^ hose soil is wet with the blood our fathers shed to make it 
fcic ! 

" And shall this longer be ? Shall we shut our eyes and steel 
our hearts to the woes of the white man, while we weep salt 
tears over the wrongs of the black? Shall we let this accursed 
race of men-stealers and women-whippers go free when the 
slave is liberated ? Or, shall we say to them, take your foot 
from off the neck of the poor white, release his soul from its 
bondage — a bondage more galling than the fetters of the slave 
— give him the light of heaven and the knowledge of earth, 
and let his children know there is a God and a life to come. 
Shall we not say this ? Shall we be men if we say less ? What 
one of you will consent that this war shall end till the white 
man, as well as the black, is Free ?" 

And then the Chaplain descanted on the condition of the 



THE ARMY CHAPLAIN. 73 

poor white man and on the system and the men that have made 
him what he is ; and for another haU' hour I listened to as odd 
a medley of slang and poetry, highfalutcn and quaint eloquence, 
as ever fell from preacher's lips. 

When a hymn was sung and a benediction said, I turned 
slowly away and resumed my walk towards the city. As I 
neared the camp I saw the Chaplain, still divested of his coat, 
approaching me at a brisk pace. As he came opposite, I in- 
stinctively touched my hat to him, and, returning the salutation, 
he said : "A pleasant evening, Sir." 

" Very pleasant," I replied. " Let me thank you. Sir, for 
the very eloquent address I have just listened to." 

" Let me thank you, Sir, for your flattering opinion of it. 
Not all, however, who praise my sermons, subscribe to my doc- 
trines." 

" I heard nothing to cavil at. You think the white trash 
more to be pitied than the black slaves, and that the slave-owner 
must be shorn of his power to give the poor man a chance to 
rise." 

"I do ; and that is reason enough for freeing the negro. The 
slaveholders more than the slave system, are the curse of this 
country ; less than a hundred thousand of them have ruled it 
for fifty years." 

" I know it. I gave that idea to the public more than a 
year ago." 

"Did you? In what ?" 

I told him, and the announcement spcured me a cordial 
grasp of his hand, a hearty "God bless you," and an urgent re- 
quest to join him at dinner. Being curious to see more of so 
original a character, I accepted the invitation. 
4 



74 DOWN IN TENNESSKK. 

The Chaplain's " lodge" was at the further end of the en- * 
campment, and looked down a well-swept, gravelled avenue, 
which the soldiers had built between the two rows of canvas 
houses. It was much more spacious than those about it. its 
roof was formed of two " shelter-tents," meeting together at the 
ridge, and its two gables were constructed of triangular pieces 
of coarse cotton cloth. One end and its two sides were covered 
with strips of weather-boarding, roughly nailed to short stakes, 
and showing, by the vestiges of paint which still adhered to 
them, that they had already done service on some of the dis- 
mantled dwellings in the vicinity. Two camp-cots, several am- 
putated chairs, a small, unpainted pine table, two or three 
travelling trunks, and an old negro — to all appearance old 
enough to have been with his forefather, Ham, in the Ark — 
who lay fast asleep in one corner, composed the furniture of 
the interior. 

Tendering me one of the broken-backed chairs, the Preacher 
touched the negro lightly with his foot, and said to him : 
" Wake up, Julius. Wake up." As the ancient African 
turned over and slowly opened his eyes, the Parson continued : 
" Come, old fellow, order dinner — dinner for three, and then 
give us a taste of whiskey-punch. D'ye hear ?" 

"Yas, yas, Massa, I yeres. I'll git 'em quicker no time. 
Wat a powerful sermon dat wus o'yourn, massa — powerful," re- 
plied the black, as, raising himself'from the ground, first on one 
knee, and then on the other, and steadying himself by one of 
the camp-cots, he painfully clambered to his feet. When ho 
had reached his highest altitude he miglit have been four feet 
and ten inches from the enormous brogans which formed his 
base of operations; but if nature had denied him height, she 



THE AEMY CIIArLAlN. 76 

had, true to her system of " compensation," given him breadth 
and thickness. He certainly measured four feet around the 
hips, and across the chest — on his back was a pi'otuberance as 
large as a bushel basket — some unknown quantity I did not 
even guess at. With his low stature, his hump-back, his white, 
frizzled locks, and his short, bandy legs, which bowed in like a 
cow's horns, he might have been taken for Richard III., risen 
from Bosworth field, and, in his old age, turned negro preacher. 

"Yes, powerful," rejoined the parson, "but mighty little //ou 
heard of it. You were fast asleep the whole time." 

" Well, Massa, but I yeard it. Dis pore ole body wus 
a sleepin' down dar, but dc sperrit soared 'way ter you — it 
did Massa; it yeard ebery word— ebery word." 

" What was the text ?" 

" I does'nt zactly 'member, Massa Parson," rejoined the 
black, manipulating his wool in the manner peculiar to his 
race ; " I does'nt zacihj 'member, but I tinks it wus suffin' 
loike de Lord am good ter all dat lub Him, Suffin' loike dat, 
Massa," 

" No, you old sinner, it wasn't any thing like it — It was : 
' Without are dogs and sorcerers, and whosoever loveth and 
maketh a lie.' And that's where you'll get, old man, if you 
don't give up your everlasting lying. But come, stir your 
stumps. Order dinner and get the whiskey." 

The old black rolled himself off. When he was out of hear- 
ing, I said to the Parson : " You "chose your body-servant for 
his beauty, I suppose," 

" No, I didn't, I chose him for his piety. There is more of 
the spirit of Christ in that old darky than I ever knew in a hu- 
man being. I'll bet m best sermon against a glass of whiskey 



76 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

that he'll be in heaven a thousand years before any white man 
living." 

" That's great odds," I replied, laughing; "but he rvill lie." 

" That isn't his fonlt. It's one of the effects of Slavery. 
Slavery has forced him to be a cringing sycophant all his life, 
and he can't throw off the habit all at once. Habits are like 
mosses growing to a tree — they must be loosened gently, gradu- 
ally ; if you strip them off violently, you kill the tree." 

" But somehow, I've always associated a comely form with a 
beautiful soul. How can such goodness dwell in such a body 
as his ?" 

" It is not the body that expresses the soul — it is the face. 
Look at his, and tell me if you do not see heaven reflected in 
it. I have watched it for hours as he has sat there on the 
ground, his body bent double, his eyes closed, and his chin 
resting on his knees ; and I have fancied that his spirit was really 
away among the green fields and the pleasant streams that lie 
on the other side of Jordan. I have no doubt it vpas." 

We were here interrupted by the entrance of a tall young 
man in a captain's uniform, whom the Parson introduced to me 
as his messmate. " You see," said he, " in union there is com- 
fort as well as strength. The Captain and I have put our tents 
together, and thus made quite a cosey nest here." 

" You have — a very cosey one. I think a little experience 
of this sort of life would so enamor me of it that I should be 
reluctant to go back to gas and conventionalism." 

" It would ; I came out here at the prompting of duty — to be 
a martyr for truth and the Union. But, bless your soul ! I've 
found martyrdom so very pleasant that I'm willing to suffer it 
every day I live. This sort is pleasanter, with salt pork and 



THE AEMY CHAPLAIN. 1^ 

cold weather, tlian the kind John Eogers took with a hot 
steak (stake) and a roaring fire. Do jou know I think man 
was meant for the savage state !" 

"You mean for the green fields, the open air, the breezy 
woods, and Freedom." 

" Yes, you've hit it ; you speak like a poet and a philosopher 
to boot. But, come, try some of this old saint's punch. Let 
me see — what do you call it, Julius ?" 

This was addressed to the negro, who had just then entered, 
bearing a mammoth tray, made of a piece of pine plank, hol- 
lowed in the centre, and curiously ornamented at the edges 
with a variety of grotesque carvings, executed with a jack-knife. 
On it was a steaming tankard of whiskey-punch, and four (the 
darky had evidently thouglit of himself) tin goblets of decided- 
ly plebeian appearance. 

Placing them on the small table which he drew up before us, 
the old negro grinningly replied : " De 'lixer ob de gods, 
Massa." 

" The ' lixer' of the devil ?" exclaimed the Captain, laughing : 
"Why, you old fool, you don't suppose the gods drink whiskey- 
toddy, do you ?" 

" Ob course dey does, massa Cap'n : doan't dey hab eberytino" 
whot's good in heaben ? an' haint whiskey-toddy, sech as ole 
Jule make, jess 'bout de best ting you knows on — now, haint 
it, massa Cap'n ?" 

" Yes, it is, Jule. And now fill up, old boy — one for your- 
self — and let us drink to the day when we shall all drink toddy 
together in heaven." 

We all rose and solemnly drained the cups. When they 
were replaced on the table, the parson remarked : 



78 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" There is nothing so unreasonable in Jule's theory as may at 
first appear. Not that I suppose they drink whiskey-punch in 
heaven, but the connection between the spirit and the body is 
so intimate that I can easily conceive of our earthly appetites 
clinging to us after the soul has thrown off its grosser covering. 
In that, and in the impossibility of gratifying their depraved 
longings, much of the torment of bad men in the future life 
may consist." 

Amused at the oddity of the idea, I replied : " Undoubtedly 
it mav, and I'll give you a fact that supports the theory com- 
pletely. It was given to me by a distinguished gentleman — a 
Spiritualist. He says that an eminent lawyer — his intimate 
friend, and an inveterate tobacco chewer — died and came to 
him about an hour afterwards. They had a long conversation 
together, and in the course of it he asked the lawyer what his 
strono'est desire "was when he first awoke to consciousness in the 
other life. 'I wanted a chew of tobacco like the devil,' was 
the lawyer's reply." 

At this the Captain broke into a boisterous fit of laughter, 
in which even the sable saint joined. As soon as he could 
speak, the officer exclaimed: ''He's'into you, Parson; you 
must look out — our friend is a bit of a wag." 

*' But it'm de trufh, Massa Cap'n," earnestly chimed in the 
negro, who had seated himself on the ground, and was busily 
nursing his calves and stroking his knees with his chin. It'm 
de trufh — haint I seed dem dark, bad spcrrets, hangin' round 
doggeries, an' dem low places whar de Secesh hab dar shindies, 
jess ter git a smell — on'y a little smell ob dat ar mis'able stuff 
dey call Knock-era-stiff. An' dat haint no sech stuff as dis, 
Massa Cap'n ; taint no sech stuff as dis, I shores you," and 



THE ARMY CHAPLAIN. 79 

raising liis mug, wliicli he liad slyly filled again, he drained it 
to the bottom, 

" Shut up, Jule, ijoiL don't know any thing about such big 
gentlemen," exclaimed the Captain. 

" I don't know nuifin 'bout nwj gemmeti whot chaws ' backer," 
rejoined the darky — who seemed to be a privileged character 
— " but I knows lots o' cap'ns whot does it, and does it so bad 
dat I'se afeared dey'll neber git ober it, neber." 

"Captain," exclaimed the Parson, laughing heartily, " I've 
told you Jule is too smart for you. But come, old fellow, hur- 
ry up that dinner — I'm as hungry as a bear." 

The negro slowly picked himself up and waddled out of the 
tent. 

"That darky is no fool," I remarked, when he had gone. 

" No, he is as smart as any white man I ever knew. He's 
of good stock. Though dwarfed and misshapen, he has every 
mark of good blood about him," replied the Chaplain. 

" What do you mean by ' good blood.?' he's as black as mid- 
night." 

" I mean he has a fine physical organization — as fine as a 
white man's. The souls of all men, I take it, are essentially 
alike. Men differ only in organization. On a fine organization 
the spirit acts more perfectly than on a coarse one. No player 
can get as good music from a poor piano as from a good one. 
This accounts for the inequality of mental development we see 
among men and races of men, and the same ditference that ex- 
ists among the white races, exists among the black. Jule is 
one of the superior grade." 

" I never heard that theory stated before," I replied ; " but I 
have observed that the negro with cucumber-shaped shin, bab- 



so DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

oon head and face, stooping shoulder and long heel, is inferior 
— ^greatly so — to the one (however black he may be) of erect 
and well-formed body, straight shin, and finely developed brain. 
I have known ^lany of these last that I have thought equal in 
mental and moral power to the better class of white men." 

" Equal in mental and superior in moral power," said the 
Parson. " It is useless for us to deny it ; the better races of 
negroes are more receptive of good influences, more familiar 
with the inmost experiences of faith, and hope, and trust ; more 
suitably organized to be the temples of the Holy Spirit than our 
own race. They live close to God, are truly His children ; 
their whole souls go out to Him in prayer and worship, and 
some of them carry a halo always about them, as if they daily 
saw * the glory of God, and Jesus standing at His right hand.' " 

" Yes, but is not some of this religious exaltation owing to 
their condition ? They cling to Christ because he is their all 
— they have literally nothing else." 

" No, I think not. It is the result of oi'ganization. Day 
and Martin will, without doubt, be at a premium on the ' other 
side of Jordan.' If St. Peter ever lets me in, I reckon it will 
be because I shall hold on mighty hard to the coat-tail of some 
old black saint, like Julius here. Eh, Jule V 

"I reckons not, Massa Parson," replied the negro, who had 
re-entered, and was loading the small table with eatables. " I 
reckons you kin git in fru dat ar gate wid you' own legs and de 
grace ob God. But ef you can't — ef ole Peter make any 'jec- 
tion — Jule '11 take you up ahind ; you kin git up dar (touching 
the huge hump on his back) an' ride slap inter glory like's ef 
you wus drivin' you' own six lioss kerridge — you kin, Massa 
Parson — you may 'pend on dat." 



THE AKMY CHAPLAIN. 81 

A laugli followed, and in the midst of it we sat down to din- 
ner. It consisted of boiled ham, salt pork, corn bread, butter- 
milk, and strawberries, and on such fare, seasoned as it was 
with hanger, exercise, and pleasant conversation, I made a most 
hearty meal. 

" You belabored nigger worshippers, in your sermon,'' I 
said to the parson after a time ; " but it strikes me you're 
something of one yourself." 

" Not a bit of one," he replied ; " I can see his good quali- 
ties, but I give the negro precious little love or worship ; the 
poor white man has all my sympathy, and he needs it more 
than the black." 

" I know he is lower in intellect and morals than the negro." 

" Far lower. The slaveocrats have enslaved his mind as 
they have the other's body. His degradation is almost past 
belief. The other day, I was strolling out a little Avay be- 
yond our lines, and came upon a young woman sitting in the 
doorway of a mean hovel. She was as beautiful as Eve before 
she fell — as beautiful as I imagine the angels are who bear 
parted souls to Heaven. She had long, auburn hair, which fell 
over her neck like a veil of golden gauze, soft, liquid brown 
eyes, and features that sculptors chisel for the world to look 
at. Raphael had a dim vision of such a face, and made it im- 
mortal in the Madonna, She sat w'ith her bare legs braced 
against the door-jamb, and a little higher than her head ; and 
the coarse cottonade gown she wore disclosed the handsomest 
foot, ankle, and — shall I say it, Captain ?" and he paused abrupt- 
ly, and turned to that gentleman. 

"Oh, yes; say it; never mind me," rejoined the Captain, 
with mock gravity. 
4" 



82 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" Well tlien, the haudsomest foot, ankle and knee, that can 
be found in Tennessee." 

" The Parson's a judge of beauty, Sir," said the Captain. 
" In women and horses he's a perfect connoisseur. He adores 
a handsome form, but a pretty leg enraptures him." 

"And why shouldn't it? Woman is the most beautiful 
thing in creation, and a pretty leg is a womanly feature — but 
we'll not discuss that. As I approached this half clad beauty 
she took an old tobacco pipe, blacker than the ace of spades, 
from her mouth, and said to me : ' Stranger, hovvdy'ge ? Ye 
haint got no 'backer 'bout ye, hes ye ?' 

" I pleasantly told her I did not use tobacco, when she put 
one of her pretty feet to the ground (there was no floor to the 

cabin), and yelled out : ' Then gwo to ,' the hot place the 

Captain occasionally alludes to — * we haint no use for no sich old 
saints as ye is, round yere !' I travelled off at double-quick, 
I assure you, but I cursed in my heart the men and the system 
that had reduced so lovely a specimen of my race and blood to 
such degradation." 

" But they are not all so degraded," said the Captain. 
" When I was a prisoner last fall, I saw a good deal of them, 
and one of them aided me to escape. He fought like a hero at 
Stone River, and is now by far the best man in my company." 

" C6me, Captain ; tell our friend your adventures with Tom 
in Secessia," said the Parson. 

The Captain assented, and his story will be found in tlic next 
chapter. 



THE captain's 6T0KY. 83 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE CAPTAIN S STORY. 



" It is not much of a story," said the captain, drawing his 
chair away from the table and hghting a huge cigar ; " and, 
besides, I haven't the parson's handy way of dressing up a 
common incident so as to make it fit for good society ; but 
such as it is, it is true." 

" But, Captain, as it's Sunday," said the preacher, smiling, 
" suppose you leave out some of your favorite ornamental 
phrases ; truth unadorned, you know, is adorned the most." 

" Yes ; but if you strip it stark naked you shock modest peo- 
ple. Why, Sir, if I used as many oaths in my talk as the parson 
does in his sermons, I should expect the earth to open and 
swallow me, as in ancient times it did that old secessionist, 
Korah." 

" Come, come, you'll make your story like the parsonage my 
folks in Illinois built for me— all porch and front-door. Get 

into it, and be brief; for life is short — and I want Mr. to 

hear some of Jule's psalm-singing before he goes." 

The captain handed me a cigar, took a long whiff from his 
own, and without noticing the preachers remark, began his 
story : 

" It %vas after the great foot-race between Bragg and Buell, 
when old 'Slow-coach' won the stakes— two States and— a 



84 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

court-martial ; and we soldiers immortalized ourselves by using 
our legs instead of our muskets. I was stationed at Gallatin in 
defence of the railway, and, being short of fodder, took a squad 
of a dozen men one day, and went out on a foraging expedition. 
I had sent six or seven wagon loads back to camp, and, with the 
remaining wagons, was scouring the district around Hartsville, 
when, just after we had set our pickets for the night, about two 
hundred of Forrest's cavalry came suddenly on us, and surrounded 
and made us prisoners before we had even time to run. A small 
party took us in charge, and striking a course due east, made 
for the Knoxville Railroad. Nothing worth mention occurred 
during the first two days. At the close of the second we reach- 
ed a small village called Crossville — consisting of two houses, a 
barn, and a nigger shanty — ^just in the edge of Bledsoe County, 
and halted for the night. We took supper at the house of a 
well-to-do planter, of the name of Boylan, who gave us a good 
meal, and was very courteous to the Confederate officer, but, 
in my presence, cursed and swore at the Union, and the ' Lin- 
kum hirelin's,' hard enough to have shocked — the parson. The 
lieutenant, who was a social fellow and a gentleman, pressed me 
to share his bed at the house, but I declined, asserting — not 
very rriildly — that I wouldn't sleep under the roof of such an 
old reprobate as the planter. The Rebel officer appreciated my 
feeling, and lending me an extra blanket — for the night was 
cold — consented to my camping out with my men — which 
meant sleeping in a corn-field, on the ploughed ground, with the 
sky for a bedquilt. The boys had made a rousing fire of pine- 
knots, and were eating their suppers near it when I joined them. 
Spreading a blanket on the ground, and seating myself before the 
roaring blaze, I lit my last cigar, and fell to studying ' Ayer's 



THE captain's STORY. 85 

Cherry Pectoral Almanac,' a copy of wliich delightful work 
had somehow lodged in the pocket of my overcoat. I was 
pondering its astrological predictions, when a long, loose-jointed 
native came up to me, and said : 

" Wall, stranger, yer takin' it powerful cool, bein's yer in a 
purty clus fix." 

" Not a very close fix," I answered ; " there's lots of room 
round here." 

" Yas, lots uv it; but ye hain't the run o' the ground — 
though I 'spect ye woukl run ef ye hed the chance." 

"I reckon I would." 

"Whot's thct yer readin' thar?" 

" An almanac." 

" Almynac ! Whot's thet ?" 

" A book that tells all about the weather ; when it will rain 
and when it won't. A man that carries one doesn't need an 
umbrella." 

" An' do it tell when it wull be fa'r fur shootin' snipe an' 
kotchin eels ?" 

"Oh yes, it tells all that, and when husbands may 'look out 
for squalls.' If you've a wife you ought to have one." 

" I hain't morrid. Number one ar' bout so much as I kin 
find in vittles. But thet mns' be a monstrus nice book ; ef I 
could spell, I'd spill a quart o' hnmin grease ter git one." 

" 'T would be worth that ; but here, I'll give you this. You 
can learn to ' spell ' it somehow." 

" With a look of stupid surprise he took the almanac, but in a 
moment handed it back, saying, * I doan't mean ter 'pose on 
ye, stranger, beca'se yer kotched in the tedders (tethers). I 
hain't no sech sort o' man, no how." 



,86 DOWN IN TP:NNEt^SEE. 

" You'll not impose on me ; you're welcome to it. Make 
your preacher learn you liow to read it." 

" Lord bless ye, the parson doan't know how no more'n I 
does. Ye see we hain't no sclmles round yere ; an' ef we hed, 
pore men karn't pay no fifty dollar a yar ter guv thar childerings 
larnin'. Dad an ' I, 'fore them dinged Fed' rate rags got so 
thick in the kentry, nuver seed five dollar' from un' yar eend ter 
'tother. But, I say, wouldn't ye larn me ?" 

" Yes, I'd be glad to ; but I go off" in the morning." 

" But, 'spose we gwoed off" tergedder," and he sunk his voice 
to a whisper ; "ter night — fru the bush — up thar — plumb ter 
Nashville." 

I looked steadily at him. There was truth in his face, and 
in a low tone I asked : " To the death ?" 

"Ter the death, stranger," and he gave me his hand; " I'll 
draw a jug uv knock-em-stiff" on the soger, an' ye kin mosey 
off" 'fore the moon ar up. The boss '11 holp us." 

" Who is the ' boss ?' " 

" The old man thar," pointing to the house. 

" Why, he's a red-hot Rebel." 

" Ha ! ha ! He do come the Rebel powerful strong, but thet's 
put on. He'd guv the dingnation consarn a doze of collermy 
an' joUerp thet would clean out thar hull innards, ef he could ; 
but he durn't do it open. He's afeard o' pullin' hemp, an' 
kingdom come. Now, ef whot's said 'bout the kingdom ar true, 
I'd a durned sight ruther take my chance thar, nur yere ; fur, 
ycre ye see, a pore man haint no sort o' showin'; put thar he'll 
hev a right smart chance uv gittin' to be somebody." 

" No doubt he will. All the promises of the Bible are to the 
poor man." (That wasn't original ; I had it from the parson.) 



THE CAPTAIN S STORY, 



87 



He then went to the planter's house, and returned in a short 
time with a gallon jug of whiskey. Coming directly to me, he 
said in a loud tone ; " I say, Lcftenant " (I wore only one bar 
on my shoulder-straps then), " take a swig ter warm yer innards." 

As I poured out the liquor, he whispered : 

" The old un' say ye mus' put plumb fur the branch ; it'r 
'bout half a mile frum yere — measured with a coonskin, an' the 
tail throw'd in. Poller it up 'bout as fur — the water's low, an' 
ye mus' gwo inter it, case they moight git the dogs outer yer 
trail — an' ye'U come to a dade tree whot bends over the run. 
It's holler, an' ye kin git inter it an stay thar agin I come, as 
snug as a bar in a snow-bank. I'll prime the guard with kuock- 
em-stiif — ye be along — an' when I shouts ' Glory, glory,' twice, 
as ef the raal camp-meetin' power war on me, ye put fur the 
bushes on yer ban's an' feet, like a wurrum ; an' when ye gits 
thar, pike oft" like lightnin' chasin' a whirlygust" (hurricane). 

" I understand ; but be cool and steady." 

" Cool ? I'll be cooler nur Parson Plewit when death jerked 
him ; an' they say he war so cool he fruz the whole grave-yard 
so tight they hed ter thaw it out with light'ood." 

Our camp was guarded by about a dozen sentinels, who re- 
lieved each other every six hours. The one whose station was 
nearest the bushes that lined the northern side of the corn-field, 
bad built a fire of pine-knots, and every now and then halted 
before it as he w-alked to and fro on his round. My way of 
escape lay through those bushes, and to enable me to reach them 
unobserved my new friend would have to engage this sentry at 
the fire long enough to " prime" him so " tight" that, he would 
be oblivious to my movements. This seemed no ordinary under- 
taking, for, aside from the difiiculty of luring him from his duty 



88 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

on the beat, the sentinel was a tongli, raw-boned Kentuckian, 
who hooked whiskey-proof, and capable of " totein' a peck of 
licker." But no time could be lost. It was already nine 
o'clock, and guard would be relieved at twelve ; so the native set 
himself at once about his spiritual labors. 

Approaching the fellow, jug in hand, he asked hira to 
drink, and in an incredibly short time had so worked on his 
affection for knock-em-stiff, that the Kentuckian was seated 
cosily hobnobbing with him on a log before the fire. A greasy 
pack of cards was soon brought out, and they went into euchre, 
seven-up, and high-lovv-jack, every now and then relieving the 
card playing with a horn, and one of the toughest yarns that 
mortal man ever listened to. For a long time it seemed doubt- 
ful which would conquer in this keen encounter of wits, for 
though Long Tom — that is the name he goes by — is an incor- 
rigible wag, and " immense" at telling a story, the Kentuckian 
was no green hand at the' business. Tliey each seemed to own 
a patent for lying, and to be running their inventive machines 
with no I'egard to probability, credibility, or possibility. At 
last, when Tom had told of killing a " sarpunt" whose body 
was as large round as a " whiskey-kag," and stretched across a 
bridge thirty feet wide, with " ten foot lappin' outer the road," 
the Kentuckian shook his head, and rather sadly exclaimed : 
" Jewhitiker! Thet war the most oncommonest, rantankerous 
snaJce I uver yered on. I guv }i up." 

" Ye mought as well," said Tom, with infinite composure, 
" fur he war a most outdacious sarpunt." 

But all this time little progress had been made in getting the 
sentinel boozy. Mug after mug of clear " blue ruin" had gone 
down his throat (and Tom's shirt-collar), with no more apparent 



THE captain's stoey. 89 

effect on him than if his stomach had been of cast-iron. At 
last twelve o'clock came, and with it the relief-guard. When I 
saw him — another tough, raw-boned Kentuckian — approach, 
hope fled, and a heavier feeling came, at my heart than was ever 
there before. I had caught a glimpse of liberty, and captivity 
seemed the drearier for it. However, hiding my disappoint- 
ment, I turned to go to where the boys were sleeping, when 
Tom shouted out : 

"Mr. Leftenant, doan't ye be a moseyin' off, we'se the hull 
night afore us. The world warn't made in one day ; it tuck 
six. I'll git some more licker, an' make ye as siiug us a bar 
in a snow-bank, yit." 

Giving the last of its contents to the new-comer, he then took 
the jug under his arm and " moseyed otf" to the house, while 
the relieved sentry again quietly seated himself on the log. 
The latter evidently meant to levy on the fresh supply of "sper- 
rets," and I saw with consternation that my undaunted friend 
vi^ould have to perform the almost impossible exploit of " floor- 
ing" two " double-lined," "fire-proof," Kentucky " whiskey-swil- 
lers" at once". 

Tom soon reappeared with the jug and three extra mugs — 
the previous drinking had been done from one — and filling 
them to the brim, said, looking very hard at me : " Now, let 
me guv ye a toast. Yere's ter Jefl". Davis, an' may he live so 
long as the Lord'll let him." 

" I can't drink to that," I said, setting down my mug. 

" No more'n ye karu't, Leftenant ! I nuver thort o' thet, so 
no 'fence. But, bein's the toast's out, 'spose ye drink ter the 
next." 

I took his meaning at once. He had drugged the liquor. 



90 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

The cards were again brought out, but what " knock-era-stitf " 
could not do, laudanum soon began to accomplish. The new- 
comer was the first to show its effects. He played somewhat 
wildly for a time, then, swaying unsteadily on the log, rolled 
heavily off to the ground. The other kept his seat a while 
longer, but when Tom, plying him with a second " swig," 
swung his mug around his head and cried, " Glory ! glory !" 
he followed his " departed friend," and sunk into a sleep that 
" knows no waking" for a half dozen hours. 

Giving me a strong grasp of the hand, the native pointed to the 
bushes. Wrapping the blankets about me (the lieutenant's, 
I confiscated), and taking a last look at the boys — it came awful 
hard to leave them — I lowered myself on my hands and knees, 
and crawled to the fence. I reached it without detection, and soon 
arrived at the branch, up which I waded, as directed by the native. 

The moon was just rising when I came upon the hollow tree, 
and I had no difiiculty in finding its opening. Its interior was 
fully eight feet in diameter, the trunk being a mere shell, and 
was covered with a thick flooring of decayed wood. On this I 
spread one of the blankets, and wrapping myself in the other, 
lay down to rest. The excitement of the escape, and the long 
ride of the previous day, had so fatigued me that I soon sank 
into a deep slumber. How long I slept I do not know, but 
when I awoke the day was " about an hour by sun," and a small 
army of men and dogs were howling outside of my retreat, as 
if a legion of infernal devils had been let loose about me. 

" I tell you he has waded either up or down the run," said a 
voice I recognized at once as that of the Rebel lieutenant ; " the 
dogs don't, track him over there. He must have hid somewhere 
near the streani." 



THE CAPTAIiSf's STORY. 91 

" Lord bless ye, Leftenant, them dogs liain't wuth a tetocious 
d — n. They nuver nosed nuthin more'ii thar dinners. A man 
as wus pikein fur the Union Unes, 'ud run streter nur a scared 
wolf. I'd plank salvation agin a jack-knife thet his legs is a 
dancin' a hurricane up thar, on Jim Potter's deadnin' (clearing) 
beyont the mounting, at this pertic'lur minuet." 

I held my breath in torture. I have heard a thousand bul- 
lets whistling about me without feeling the agony of suspense I 
endured during the next five minutes. Soon, however, the 
voices died away, and before many hours I heard the faint bay- 
ing of the hounds miles off upon the "mounting." Tom had 
saved me ! 

When the danger was over I lay down, and, overcome with 
the excitement, again fell asleep. It was dark when my shoul- 
der was touched lightly, and Tom whispered in my ear : " It ar 
time ter be a moseyin' off, Leftenant. H — 11 mought be tall 
lodgin's ef the fire war out, but it ar too hot fur us jest now." 

I rose, and partaking of a hearty meal and fortifying myself 
with a liberal glass of brandy — the planter had furnished us with 
a gallon jug of genuine " Otard," — sallied from my place of con- 
cealment. We struck directly for a wood, half a mile distant, 
and worked our toilsome way over rocks and through under- 
brush and laurel bushes all the night. In the morning we lay 
down by the side of a fallen tree and went to sleep. Tom had 
brought provisions enough to last for two or three days, by 
which time he hoped we should be clear of the neighborhood in 
which he was known, and where the danger of detection was 
greatest. Travelling by the woods, however, was slow, and if 
we kept to them, our supplies would be exhausted before 
we reached the safer district of country. That night, there- 



92 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

fore, we took to the high roai We walked till the sun 
rose without meeting any one, and then "camped out" in the 
bushes. For two more days and nights we did the same, and 
then had arrived within twenty miles of Nashville. Our provis- 
ions having then given out, Tom, in the small hours of the morn- 
ing, made a descent on a planter's smoke-house and supplied our 
larder with two enormous hams. As he threw them into the 
thicket where I lay, he said to me : 

" Won't them infernal nigs kotch it fur stealin' these critters. 
It'll sarve 'em right ; they orten't ter b'long ter no such durned 
hide-hound secesh." 

" How do you know he is a secessionist ?" 

"By the taste o' the bacon. Ye nuver know'd no sech hog's- 
flesh as thet ter be cum by a honest Union man. Why, it'r 
strong 'nuff ter knock ye down, an' tough — it'r tougher nur the 
yarns dad used ter tell us boys uv cold nights, in the old shanty 
on the dead'nin'." 

In the impatience of his hunger he had cut a slice from one 
of the hams with his jack-knife, and eaten it raw on his way to 
" camp." A fire would have betrayed us, so I drew out my 
knife, and followed his example. The meat was rather rancid 
and very tough, but I never before tasted any thing half so pal- 
atable. Hunger is a wonderful condiment. It has made me 
think a sirloin of mule superior to the finest steak ever broiled. 

We lay close through the following day, but the next even- 
ing, before the sun was well down — we were within twenty miles 
Qi freedom, and impatient to get to it — carrying the hams under 
our arms, we resumed our journey. We took to the highroad, 
but had not proceeded a mile before we met six men coming 
briskly towards us. One was dressed as a Confederate sergeant, 



THE captain's STORY. 93 

and had a gun on his shoulder ; the others wore the ordinary 
homespun of the district, and, having no arms, seemed fresh re- 
cruits. Avoiding them was out of the question, so, cocking our 
pistols in our pockets (Tom had confiscated the revolvers of the 
two sentinels while they lay senseless on the ground), we went 
boldlv forward. They eyed my uniform very closely, but merely 
saying, " Good evenin','' passed us quietly. They had not gone 
two hundred yards, however, before I heard the report of a mus- 
ket, and felt a sharp, burning sensation in my right side, near 
the shoulder. The infernal sergeant had shot me ! His ball 
entered- at my back, and, making a half circle, lodged on my 
breast-bone. 

Tom turned like an aroused panther, and sprang down the 
road after them, firing his revolver as he ran. He overtook one, 
and brained him with his pistol-stock, but the rest escaped. In 
the mean time I was bleeding profusely. I took out my hand- 
kerchief and attempted to staunch the blood, but could not. I 
sat down on a stone by the road-side, and tried to look death in 
the face, but somehow death wouldn't be looked in the f;i,ce. 1 
was bleeding at a rate that in a few hours would drain every 
drop of blood from my body, but I could not realize that I was 
to die — then — there — only twenty miles from Freedom ! 

Tom, returning in a few minutes, said to me : 

" Them fellers wuU raise the deestrict, Leftenant, an' all Secesh 
wuU be arter us in no time. We mus' take ter the woods, and 
feed on hope an' tough ham till the whirlygust ar over." 

" Tom," I said, " I'm badly hurt ; too badly, I fear, to go any 
further. You take care of yourself. You can escape ; leave me 
here ; they'll take me prisoner, but it will be my best chance 
to cret at a doctor." 



94 DOWN IN TENNESSEE, 

" Hurt ! Blisters and blamenation, so ye is !" he exclaimed, 
tearing open my coat, and examining the wound. " Quick, Lef- 
tenant ! guv me yer wiper — I hain't nary one, I allers does thet 
bizness the nat'ral way. AVe must stop thet ter oust — ter 
onst." 

Taking my handkerchief, he saturated it with the brandy, and 
bound it tightly about my side. Then, squatting <mi his hands 
and knees, he said : " Git up thar, back uppermos', and lay flat 
as a fritter. It'll holp the bleedin'." 

I submitted myself quietly to him, and in a moment he was 
coursing over the open ground which lay between the road and 
the thick belting of woods we had recently left, with a gait as 
firm and easy, and almost as fast, as that of my mare Bess. As 
he went along, he every now and then broke out with some ex- 
clamation like the following : " Whot d — n tetocious villuns ter 
hit a man in • the back. D — n 'urn ! They wus borned in to- 
phet, an' they'll git thar agin, yit. I'll holp 'em on the way. I 
wull ! Leave ye, Leftenant ? Ye doan't 'spose Tom's a secesh ? 
— dinged, rottin-souled, blue-blasted, son uv a Rebel, docs ye ? 
No ! He's wuth ye, Leftenant — ter the death — ter the death. 
Didn't he say it, an' d'ye uver know' Tom ter guv his word 
an' broke it." Then, as he paused to draw breath, he added : 
"Yer more'n a y'arlin' baby, but nuver ye fear; I hain't gin 
out ; I kin outrun creation yit, an' guv it two mile the start." 

And I think he could have done so, for in an incredibly short 
time he set me down at our camping-ground of the previous 
night. Gathering some dried leaves for a mattress, and cover- 
ing me with a blanket, he looked again at my wound. The 
bleeding had sensibly diminished, and, when more brandy had 
been applied, and I had rested a while in a horizontal position, 



THE captain's STORY. 95 

it ceased altogether. When he was satisfied I was out of im- 
mediate danger, he said to me : 

" I leff thct ar bacon an' tlie 'tothcr blankets 'side the road, 
an' I mus' git 'em, Leftenant, or we's gone up. I couldn't gwo 
it twice ter one smoke-house — the old coon'U be watchin' on it 
ter night." 

" But wait till it's fully dark. It won't be safe to go now." 

" Safe now as uver ; an' 'sides, I'se afeard o' the dogs. Ef 
the varmunts shud nose them traps, we might as wull say our 
pray'rs ter oust. An' bein's thar hain't more'u 'un chance in a 
thousan' uv thar not hev'n done it, s'pose ye be gittin' a pray'r 
a'ready, Leftenant — a right smart long 'un, thet'll do for both 
on US', fur I's 'mazin pore at thet sort o' bizness." 

" But, Tom, if we're in such danger — go ; secure your own 
safety while there's time. You can do no more for me ; so — go, 
at onc'^." 

" Gwo, Leftenant ? Tom nuver flinched, or showed his back 
ter a friend, Ef the thing ar up Avith us, we'lFsee it out terged- 
der, loike men. I hain't no way purticler 'bout gwine ter king- 
dom-come jest yit, bein's I'd loike ter guv them ar rantankerous 
rebels a leetle h — 11 fust, but — ef my time ar come ; ef the Lord's 
callin' fur me, as the parsons say — why, I'm a'ready ; an' I know 
He wont ax me in ter the rare door, fur, though I'se pore, an' 
ign'i-ant, an' no sort o' 'count ter nary one in all creation, He 
knows I nuver bed no showin' — thet's I'se done the best I 
could." 

As he said this his voice was as low and soft as a woman's, 
with an inexpressible sadness in it which brought the tears to 
my eyes. I grasped his two hands, as I replied : 

" God bless you, my friend ! You're the noblest man I 



96 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

ever knew. If I die, my last breath shall be a prayer for 
you." 

He made no reply, but, turning away, dashed off through the 
bushes. 

His voice choking with emotion, the captain paused at this 
point in his narrative, and the parson remarked : 

" He is a noble fellow, Mr. , and I don't wonder at the 

captain's attachment to him ; but Tom's affection for the cap- 
tain is something not often seen in this work-day world. I be- 
lieve no mortal ever felt such devotion for another as he feels for 
him." 

" Oh yas, dey hab, Massa Parson ; 7'se seed it ;" exclaimed 
the old black, who had resumed his seat on the ground ; " My 
young massa, he got morrid, an' de fuss munfh he feel like he'd 
eat his wife up ; but de second munf li — he wish ter de Lord he 
bed." 

" Speak when you're spoken to, Jule ;" said the parson, re- 
straining his inclination to laugh, and trying to look stern. 

" And give me a mug of whiskey toddy, you old joker," added 
the captain, laughing heartily. 

" Dar hain't anuddcr drap, Massa Cap'n," replied the negro, 
with a demure face. " You's drunk ebery drap, ebery bressed 
drap, Massa Cap'n." 

" I have had but two mugs, you old toper. Yon have drunk 
it yourself. How much have you had ?" 

" Not more'n six, Massa Cap'n ; an' dat hain't nuffin ob sech 
stuff as dis ; you knows dat, Massa Cap'n." 

" No, not for yoii : but get some more at once. This black 
Christian," he added, turning to me, " can stand liquor enough 
to float a ship." 



THE captain's STOKT. 97 

" But he's not to blame for the habit," I said, laughing. " It's 
' one cf the results of slavery,' eh. Parson ?" 

" 1 reckon it is," replied the preacher, joining in the general 
merriment ; " but Jule never gets drunk. However, his habit is 
a little expensive to us, as the rapacious sutlers make us pay five 
dollars a bottle for decent whiskey. But, Captain, go on with 
your story, or you'll not get through to-night." 

" The next hour," resumed the captain, " was the longest I 
ever knew ; but it came to an end at last, and Tom reappeared 
with the blankets and bacon. A party of a dozen men, evi- 
dently in pursuit of us, v/ere passing down the road, when, on 
his hands and knees he reached it ; but they did not perceive 
him, and having no dogs, did not detect our ' camp equipage,' 

" Again dressing my wound, and wrapping the remaining 
blankets about me — for the air grew very chilly as the night 
wore on — my companion sat down on the fallen log, in the lee 
of which I Avas lying, and appeared to fall asleep. My wound 
had grown very painful, and I was tossing uneasily about, un 
able to rest, when, at the end of several hours, he raised his head, 
and said to me : 

" Leftenant, I luck'd round a leetle when I went fur the traps, 
an' thar hain't no house'n nigher'n three mile, 'cept thet durned 
secesher's thet I stole the bacon frum. Ye'U die ef ye doan't 
git under kiver. What shill we do ?" 

" Pr«y, Tom ; I know the Lord will lead us out of this, if we 
ask Him aright." 

" Then, 'spose ye tries yer hand at it, Leftenant ; ye's more 
larnin', an' yer a better man nur me." 

" Learning is not needed in asking of God. He sees the 
faintest wish of the heart, and he grants it to his children." 
5 



98 DOWN IN TENNESSEK. 

(" Preaching is not my profession," said the captain, paren- 
thetically ; " but, near as I then was to death, I felt very solemn, 
and I've no doubt I could have beaten the parson at his own 
trade, and given him — as Tom would say — two in the game.") 

" Wall, of wishin' ar prayin', Leftenant," replied Tom, " I'se 
bin a prayin' this whole blessed night — uver sence I seed ye'd 
got a hole inter ye thet moight let the life out. But the Lord 
doan't yere me — I doan't see no way out o' this but gwine ter 
thet durned hide-bound secesher's, an' thet 'ud nuver do, 
nohow." 

" But yon don't know that he is a secessionist." 

" Yas I does. I'd swar ter it on the bacon ;" and, heaving a 
deep sigh, he went to musing again. 

The night, though I thought it would never end, at last wore 
away, and the sun came in through the trees. It had been up 
about two hours, and was warming even my cold bed under the 
laurel leaves, when a voice directl}" over me suddenly exclaimed : 
" AVh — wh — whot'm — you — doin' down dar ?" 

It was a tall, stalwart negro man, who had come upon us 
from the side to which Tom's back was turned. The latter was 
in a gentle doze, and did not hear his approach, but the moment 
the black spoke he sprang to his feet, and, seizing him by the 
collar, cried out : " Ye black thundercloud ! whot does ye want 
yere f 

The negro made no reply, but, drawing back, aimed a heavy 
blow at the native's face. ■ Tom caught it on his arm, and step- 
ping aside, and making no effort to return it, said with amaz- 
ing coolness : 

" Come, none o' thet, ur I'll lay ye out without ben'fit o' 
clargy. "We's friends ter all sech black devils like ye ; so sot 



THE captain's stoey. 99 

down ycre an' tell us who ye is. Sot ye down," Ife added, as 
the hlack showed a disposition to disregard his injunction : 
'' Sot ye down ! or I'll lanim ye till yer whiter nur Squire Robins' 
old mar, an' she war so white ye couldn't see har by daylight, 
fur the fact wns — she war dead." 

The negro sat down. " Thet's a sensible feller," said Tom, 
" Now, whar d'ye b'long ?" 

" Ter Squar Gibbon, ober dar," replied the black, pointing 
snlkily in the direction of the planter's. 

" An' didn't ye lose two hams frum the smoke-house las' 
night? an' didn't the squar guv it ter ye nigs' loike blazes 
this mornin' fur a stealin' on 'em ?" 

"Yas, he done dat, Massa." 

" Sarved ye right. It'll larn ye bctter'n ter steal agin. Ilain't 
yer massa a durned old secesli ?" 

" He am dat, Massa, nuffiu'' else nur dat," replied the negro, 
grinning. 

"Didn't I tell ye, Lcftcnant ?" cried Tom, in a triumphant 
tone, giving one of the hams a contemptuous kick, "Didn't I tell 
ye I know'd it by the taste o' the bacon ?" 

The darky looked at the hams ; and a sudden light seemed 
to break upon him, for he shouted out, "Yah! yah! an' did 
you stole de bacon, Massa? Did you done dafr^ Massa? Yah ! 
yah!" 

" No, we didn't stole it ; wdiite men doan't steal ; only ye 
cussed nigs does thet. We kornfiscated it," 

The black looked at us as if he didn't know the exact diftcr- 
ence between stealing and confiscating ; but he said nothing. 
Tom rested his head on his hand for a moment ; then, looking 
up, said to the negro : 



100 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" I say, ^nndergust, which'll ye take — death or yer freedom ?" 

" I doan't 'zactly understand, Massa," replied the black, with 
more coolness than he could have been expected to exhibit under 
Tom's eye, which startled even me with its fierceness. 

" I mean thet we is Union men, 'scapin ter the lines ; an' thet 
we'll take ye 'long, an' guv ye yer freedom, ef ye'll holp us ; an' 
kill ye., {f ye ivoati't. Thet's all." 

" I'll holp you, Massa. Ef you'm Union I'd do ut widout 
ony freedom, but, ob course, Massa, I'd rudder hab dat." 

" Uv course ye w'ud ; ony fool vv'ud. Whot der ye think, 
Leftenant ? Kin we trust the nig ?" 

" I think so ; I like his face," I replied. 

" So does I. But, my black booty, ye jest 'count on it, ef ye 
come the varmunt over us ye'll kotch fryin' pans over a slow 
fire: ye wull. Wull ye 'member thet?" 

"Oh, yas, Massa. But neber you far, Massa, I'll be true. 
Shore, Massa." 

" I'll trust ye," said Tom, at once proceeding to talk afi:airs 
over with the darky. We ascertained fi-om him that the dis- 
trict was filled with Union men, who would gladly aid us, but 
they all lived at too great a distance to be safely reached in 
my wounded condition. A poor white man, however, who 
could be trusted, had a small " dead'nin' " about a mile away, 
and to him we determined to apply. The negro set oflf at once 
for his house — which stood on a narrow wagon track running 
through the woods — and in about an hour returned with the 
native. 

He was an odd-looking specimen of humanity, with a lean, 
gaunt frame, round, stooping shoulders, short, crooked figure* 
long, bony arms, and knees that seemed to love each other. His 



THE captain's STORY. 101 

eyes were small and restless ; his nose long, thin, and hooked at 
the end ; and his ears large enough to have been intended for a 
quadruped renowned for braying. He wore a pair of pants made 
of butternut linsey, a coat and shirt of the same material, and an 
old broad-brimmed slouched hat, turned up in front, and falling 
over his shoulders like the cape of a Mackintosh. 

He at once consented to receive me into his house, and to 
keep me until my wound was sufficiently healed to allow of my 
again setting out for Nashville. " Fsc mighty pore fixins, stran- 
ger," he said ; " but whot I hes ar' yourn, tor komand." 

My wound bad become greatly inflamed, so that the least mo- 
tion gave me excruciating pain, and attempting to rise, I found 
myself too weak to stand. Perceiving this, Tom and the negro, 
making a seat of their arms, took me up and carried me to the 
native's. His cabin was of the meanest sort, and, for effectual 
concealment, my bed was made in one corner of its half-floored 
attic ; but his kindness, and that of his tidy, tender-hearted wife, 
with Tom's never-ceasing attention, made those mean lodg- 
ings as pleasant as quarters under a much more pretentious 
roof. 

As soon as I could bear the pain, Tom extracted the ball with 
his jack-knife; but my strength returned slowly. It was ten 
days before I could sit up. Then I gave Tom his first lessons 
in the alphabet, putting Ayer's Almanac to a much better use 
than it was ever put to before. 

At the end of a fortnight we held a general consultation over 
aff"airs, and decided, as it might be weeks before I was able to 
travel, that Tom should attempt to make his way to Nashville, 
•with letters to my colonel. They would probably induce him 
to send a party of cavalry to my rescue. 



102 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

Tom reached Xasliville safely, and just after dark one evening, 
about a week afterward, I was gladdened by the sound of his 
voice entering the' cabin. In a moment more his good-looking 
face, lit up by the blaze of the roaring light-wood fire on the 
hearth below stairs, shone out at the top of the rickety ladder 
which led to my lodging place. "I'se done it, Leftenaut," he 
cried. " They's over ter Squire Gibbon's, kornfiscatiu' Jake an' 
a fasshoss an' kerridge. They'll be yere in a jiffin, so ye be up 
an' ready." 

I soon dressed myself, and mounting Tom's back, descended 
to terra-firma. In half an hour I hearil the clatter of horses' 
hoofs, and turning to my kind friends, said : " I have been a 
prisoner, you know, and therefore have no money about me ; but 
I shall not forget you^you shall not go unrewarded." 

" Nuver tork in thet how, Gunnel,'' replied the native. (He 
persisted in calling me colonel, though he knew my rank.) 
"Yer guvin' yer life ter the kentry, an' it war a rantaukerous 
shame ef we couldn't guv ye whot leetle ye's bed." 

I said no more, but grasping him by the hand, and kissing 
his wife — she was a young and pretty woman — I walked to the 
door and took a seat by the side of Jake, the colored man, in 
the '' kornfiscated" buggy. A " kornfiscated" horse, ready sad- 
dled, stood beside it. Tom mounted him and we rode oft" to 
Freedom, We reached Nashville before daybreak, and— that 
is the end of my story." 

" Give the captain some punch, Jule," said the parson ; " he 
must be dry after spinning so long a yarn." 

As the captain took the toddy I said to him : " And you say 
Tom is a member of your company now ?" 

" Yes, he enlisted with me as soon as I recovered from my 



. THE captain's stoey. 103 

vround. At Stone River he fought Hke a hero, and when they 
promoted rue, they gave him a shoulder-strap." 

" Then, he's an oflBcer now." 

" Second Lieutenant in my company. His tent isn't half a 
dozen rods from here." 

"indeed, I should very much like to know hiia. lie is a 
character." 

" And a wag of the first water," said the parson ; " if you 
talk with him, and don't keep your wits about you, he'll 
' sell' you, sure." 

" I'll look out for that. Pray let me see him." 

The Captain went out, and in a few moments returned with 
the " native." My interview with him, and some of the yarns 
he spun, are narrated in the next chapter. 



104 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



THE POOR WHITE MAN. 



There are two classes of poor southern whites, of marked 
and decidedly opposite characteristics. The type of the one is 
of low stature, with abbreviated body, elongated arms and legs, 
dull heavy eyes, coarse carroty hair, saffron-hued skin, and a 
small head, shaped like a cocoa-nut. The type of the other is 
tall, and well formed, with a gaunt, loose-jointed frame, a rough 
dark skin, wiry black hair, keen restless eyes, and an artless, 
confiding manner, which, with a certain air of self-possession, 
indicates that he knows little of the world, but feels fully able 
to cope with what little he does know. The first is physically 
and intellectually a " bad job," and it might sensibly be ques- 
tioned why he was created, for he appears incapable of either 
mental or moral culture ; but the other possesses all the " raw 
material" of manhood — and manhood, too, of the noblest type. 
Education, discipline, social advantages, and political freedom 
are needed to bring out his nature, but when it is brought out 
he shows himself a Man. The first class, who are few in num- 
ber, and fast melting away before the advance of a stronger race, 
and a more robust civilization, are found principally on the Sand- 
hills of North Carolina, and in the mountain regions of Lower 
Virginia and Upper Georgia. There, a little above '' the brutes 
that perish," and a " long way l6vver down dan de darkies," they 
build their pole cabins, and glean a sorry subsistence from hunt- 



THE POOR WHITE MAN. 105 

ing, fishing, and a few sterilo acres. The other class, who are 
counted by millions, and are scattered from the Potomac to the 
Rio Grande, are the bone and sinew of the South, the prop of 
Slavery, and the hope and expectation of Freedom, for on them, 
more than on immense armies or garrisoned cities, will depend 
the safety and perpetuity of the Unio«. An unprincipled aris- 
tocracy has robbed them of knowledge, and moulded them to 
its own base uses, but whenever truth has reached them they 
have shown an unselfish devotion to it, and to the Union, which 
we time-servers and money-lovers of the North know nothing 
of. In East Tennessee, where Parson Brownlow has been 
their great apostle, and The Knoxv'dle Wlii^ their Bible and 
spelling-book, they have exhibited a heroic patriotism which the 
world — I say this with a very small smattering of history — has 
seldom witnessed. The deeds they have, done, the sacrifices 
they liave made, the suff'erings they have endured for a Govern- 
ment which has closed its eyes to their sorrows, and its ears to 
their complaints, will be read of and wondered at, when this 
generation has passed away. Their story is not yet told, 
but when it is told, many a cheek will mantle with shame — as 
mine has — to hear of what these poor, unlettered men, women, 
and children have done and suffered for their country, while we 
have been growing fat on its necessities, and looking idly on, as 
it seemed tottering to its ruin. 

From this latter class sprang Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefier- 
son, Andrew Jackson, Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, Andrew 
Johnson, Parson Brownlow, President Lincoln, and — Long Tom, 
whom " the captain" told the reader something about in my 
last chapter. 

The " native" gentleman entered the tent with a quick, encr- 



106 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

getic step, and bowing respectfully to the parson, and giving me 
a grasp of the hand and a cordial " How dy'ge, stranger?" turn- 
ed suddenly on the old negro, with : 

" Wall, old thundergust, how's ye ?" 

" I'se well 'nuif," replied the black, giving his shoulder a pet- 
ulant shrug. 

"Go to the colonel's, Jule, and borrow a chair for the lieuten- 
ant," said the captain. 

The negro glanced inquiringly at the parson, but seeing no 
answering look in his face, turned his head away, and, again 
shrugging his shoulders, replied : 

*' Leff him gwo hisseff; Jule 'tends on gemmen : he doan't 
'tend on no poo' white trash — he doan't." 

" Thet's yer Christun sperret, ye black hyppercrit," rejoined 
the native, laughing, and at the same time drawing the captain's 
traveling trunk from the corner, and seating himself upon it. 
" One of these days I'll show ye how we white Christuns guvs 
good fur evil, fur I'll tend on ye — I'll bury ye ! an I woan't pile 
more'n six inches o' sile on yer bones, so ye'll hev a right easy 
time gittin up ter the resumrection," 

As the "native" took his seat I glanced at his appearance. 
lie seemed somewhere between twenty-five and thirty, and was 
about six feet three inches high, with well-formed limbs, finely 
developed frame, clear, dark eyes, and a broad, full forehead. 
His face was open, frank, and manly, and there played about it 
a mingled expression of kindness and sadness, which was strange- 
ly blended with a latent mirth, that seemed ready to break out 
on the slightest provocation. 

As he seated himself he turned to me, and in an abrupt, en- 
ergetic tone, said : 



TUE POOR WHITE MAN. 107 

" Wall, strang'cr, the capt'n soz ye'd loike ter lack at me ; so, 
I's yere. I's six foot three, witliout leathers, wcigli a hun'red 
an' eighty, hill whip twice my heft in Secesh, bars, or vattlesnakes, 
an' uvry inch on me ar yourn ter komand, ef ye gwoes in, body 
an' boots, fur the Union ; an' the capt'n reckons ye does, though 
he sez ye gwoes it the talkin', an' not the fightin' way : an' I 
ruther 'spect ye Yankees 'ud gin'rally 'bout as lief talk as fight." 

" I had much rather," I replied, laughing ; " but I reckon you 
might do a little talking, if you tried." 

" My old muther allers said I hed suthin' uv a tongue. She 
use ter 'clare ter gracious it war hung in the middle, an' hed a 
way uv gvvine at both eends ; an' yet somehow, it nuver done 
me no good. But whar dy'ge b'long, stranger ?" 

" In New York." - 

" Oh, yas, I's beam uv thet place. Up thar Nurth, clus ter 
the Nurth Pole, hain't it ?" 

" Not very close to the Pole, but in that direction." 

" An' lies ye uver seed the Nurth Pole ?" 

" No, I never saw it, but I believe there is such a thing," 

" An' whar mought it be ?" 

" It ' mought' be here, but it is'nt ;" I replied, smiling 
"Boston is the 'hub of the uuiverse' — I reckon it's there." 

" It mus' be a rantankerous Pole. How big d'ye 'spose it 
ar' ? Big as thet ar maple ?" pointing to the tree under which 
the parson had preached his sermon, and which was visible 
from the doorway of the tent. 

"Larger than ten of that placed one on the other, and spliced 
at top and bottom." 

" Jerusalamm ! but it ar a pole ! D'ye know I's made out 
whot the yerth has sech a thing fur ?" 



108 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" No, why is it ?" 

" Fur steerin' ! I's bin on the Big Drink (Mississippi) an' 
seed how they does it. But, Parson, it upsots whot ye sez 
'bout the yerth bein' round." 

" Indeed !" exclaimed the chaplain, laughing ; " and if the 
earth isn't round, how is it shaped?" 

"Loike a steambut, ter be shore," replied the native, with a 
gravity so well assumed that, for a time, it deceived even the 
parson ; " hain't ye seed them ar big poles ' at the fore' as 
they call it, uv the buts on the Big Drink ; an' how them fellers 
at the wheel plumbs thar coorse by 'em. Now, ef the yerth hev' 
un' o' them, doan't it nat'rally foller thet it's shaped loike a 
steambut? An' I knows it ar', 'case I's bin whar I c'ud luck 
slap down over the side, right outer the most relarrain', purpin- 
diclar presurpiss ye uver seed, even in yer dreams." 

Amid the general laugh which followed, I asked : 

" And how did you get, a sight at that ' relarmin', presur- 
piss' ?" 

" I'd tell ye, but it'r a mighty long story." 

" Never mind its length, Tom," said the chaplain, " tell it." 

"Wall, ye sees," said Tom, taking a 'swig' at the toddy, 
and coolly lighting one of the captain's cigars ; " I war a 
livin' long uv dad, over thar in Bladsoe, whar I war raised ; aa' 
un' mornin' dad sez ter me, sez he, ' Tom, hitch up the two-yar- 
old he'ffer, an' fotch a load o' light-'ood frum the mounting.' 
Now, dad hed a small dead'nin' up thar thet we wus a clarin' 
uv timber ; so I hitched up the cow-brute, an' piked fur the 
mounting. I'd wupkd till 'bout a hour by sun, an' hed got the 
cart chock heapin' with pine knots an' timber, when I sot down 
enter it ter eat up whot war left uv ray dinner — fur I know'd ef 



THE POOR WHITE MAN. 109 

I tuck it hum, an' dad seed it, my supper'd be brevurated jest 
so much. Wall, I war jest a swollerin' down the last mossel, 
when, thinkin' it war 'bout time tor be a hitchiu' up the liefFer, 
I luk'd round, an' whot d'ye 'spose I seed ? Two on the most 
oncommonest, riproarin' big cart-wheel snakes ye uver beam on 
in all yer borned days, an' they pikin' stret fur me !" 

"And what is a cart-wheel snake ?" I asked. 

" Why, it ar a sarpunt 'bout twelve foot long, thet hes a way 
uv kotchin' its tail in its mouth — leavin' a small eend out fur a 
snapper ; an' crackin' on it, whe'n it travils, jest loike we cracks 
a whip — an then roalin' itself over the ground loike it war a cart- 
wheel. Wall, I seed them ar two outdacious varmunts a comin' 
outer me, an' I sez ter myself: ' Tom, you hain't got no fambly 
— an' thct's 'mazin' lucky fur the fambly — but as a lone critter, as 
yer Arnt Sal use ter say uv liersefF, ye'r gone up, sartin'. An' I 
thort I war, but the Lord know'd better, fur he seed this war 
wus a cummin', an' he know'd I'd be uv some use iii guvin' 
the Rebels — brimstun. Ye sees, Parson, I's a larnin' ter leave 
out the tough words." 

"Yes, I see," said the chaplain; "you're improving fast in 
everything but — lying." 

" Lyin'," echoed Tom, in an injured tone, " I nuver lied in 
all my born days — 'cept ter Stun River ; an' thar I lied fur two 
all-fired long nights — in the mud up ter my knees. Ye 'scaped 
thet sin. Parson, 'case ye bed brush fur beddin'." 

" And I had you to thank for it. ' Tom, you are a trump — the 
very Jack of clubs." 

" Thank ye. Parson. I sots high on yer 'pinion 'bout uvry- 
thing 'cept boss flesh ; but in thet, I does 'sist — agin the capt'n 
— thet ye doant know a mule from a pile o' light-'ood. Bat 



110 T)OWN IN TENNESSEE. 

'bout them snates. They come stret at me, an' hickiu' me si|uar 
in the eye fur a minnit, licked thar big jaws with thar forked 
tongues, as mucli as ter say : ' Ye'll make a right nice mossel, 
ye wuU,' an' then kiled themselves right tight round the cart- 
. Avheels. I didn't 'spicion whot they wus a gwine 'bout, fur, 
'lowin' Pd make a right smart meal fur 'um, I didn't see whot 
yerthly use they hed fur the light-'ood. Howsomever, they 
know'd best, an' in less time nur it takes to tell it, they'd 
hitched up, an', with the hull apparitus — cart, light-'ood, an' all 
— war tossin' thar heads, an' crackin' thar whips, an' moseyin' 
fur sundown streter nur lightin' uver shot from a thunder- 
cloud. Ye'd better b'lieve they traviled. They piked over the 
roads, an' through theclarin's, buckletewhit, splittin' the a'r clean 
in two, an' leavin' a tornado we kotched up with so fur ahind 
thet I reckon it haint got thar yit." 

"But how did they manage the shafts of the cart all this 
time ?" I asked. " I should think they would have caught in 
the bushes." 

" Oh, the snakes knowed too much fur thet; they turned the 
cart clean round, and toted it hind eend afore." 

" They were sensible snakes !" 

"Ye nuver said a truer word nur thet, stranger. Wall, as I 
sot thar, gwine to'ards sundown at thet relarrain' rate, with thet 
bore-constructor sort uv a team, I jest hed time ter think, an' 
sez I ter myself: 'Tom, ye haint much larnin', but ye is a 
outdacious, dingnation, nat'i'al-borned fool, ef ye karn't outwit 
two sech flat-noggin sarpuuts as these is.' I hedu't more'n got 
the words out'n my mouth when the new moon riz up 'bove the 
hoorizon, right afore me, an' not more'n a mile off, with its two 
horns a stickiu' out, as much as ter say: 'Now, Tom — new's 



THE POOR WHITE MAN. Ill 

yer chance. Jest guv a long leap ; git up yere, an' take a tower 
clai' round creation fur uuthiu'.' I did'nt need more'n tbet 
liiut, so I squatted on my liauuclies fur a jump, an' when we'd 
come within a quarter uv a mile uv the moon, I guv a spring, 
an', d'ye b'lieve it, I landed right squar' on the leetle eend uv 
one uv the horns. The snakes they run out thar tongues, an' 
spit fire a leetle, but seeia' it warn't no use, they turned squar' 
round, piked back ter the deadin', and left the cart right whar 
they found it." 

" But I thought you said the snakes had a use for the light 
wood ?" I remarked, with decent gravity, 

" Wall, they bed ; they kalkerlated on it fur .cookin' my car- 
cass; but bein's I'd skedaddled, they toted it back, Ukc honest 
snakes, as they wus. ' . 

" And then you saw that uncommon ' presurpiss ?' " asked the 
parson. 

" Yas," answered Tom. " As the moon sailed 'way frum the 
yerthj I lucked down ; an' Parson, ye'd better b'lieve it, I seed 
a more abysfuller place than ye uver told on in all yer sarmunts. 
'Twar so deep it 'peared ter stretch ter the vury eend uv crea- 
tion, an' so dark, ye moight hev read fine prent in it by the light 
o' sech a black thing as Jule's face." 

" And how long did you sit there on the horn of the moon ?" 

" Why, bless ye, stranger, it warn't no horn at all. It war 
on'y the small eend uv a church steeple, that riz up nineteen 
mile frum the ground, an' stuck out jest fur anuff fur me ter 
kotch a hold on as I wus a gwine by." 

" Then there are people living in the moon ?" 

" I reckon thar is, an' the tallest people ye uver heered on. 
I doan't mean tall in statur' — fur they haiut much ter brag on 



112 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

thet way, an' I war a sort o' curiosity 'raong 'em, on 'count uv 
my hite — but tall uvry other how. They showed me more 
hosspetality then I uver 'spect ter see agin ; toted me round in 
a raiitankerous big kerridge shaped jest loike a coffin ; an' 
treated me ter mint-juleps 'nuff ter flood all creation in the 
driest spell ye uver know'd on." 

" An' Mister Tom," said the old black, who had listened to 
the " native's" yarn without moving a muscle of his broad face, 
which seemed made for grinning. " Beiu's you's bin dar, will 
you hab de goodness ter say whot dem ar dark places am dat 
we sees in de moon ?" 

" Nigger kentries, Mr. Midnight," replied Tom, promptly. 
"They doan't let darkies 'sociate wilh white folks up thar. 
They hard (herd) 'um all tergether, an' thar's so many on 'em 
they make the air black as a thunder-cloud, which is the reason 
why we sees 'um frura yere. An' we'll do the same with ye nigs 
in this wurle when the war arover. We'll turn yer hull race inter 
South Car'lina, an' I reckon ye'U blacken the a'r down thar so 
loike durnation ihet they'll obsarve it 'way off ter the furdrest 
eend uv the uuivarse, an' see thar's been a rev'lution down yere 
thet's altered the very face o' the planet." 

The black shrugged his shoulders contemptuously as he re- 
plied : " Whot fools ye poo' white folk kin make o' yourselves. 
Loike as ef Tennessee nigs 'ud 'sociate wid dem white trash an' 
mean chivarly down dar in Soufh Car'lina. You knows better'n 
dat — we hain't got so low as dat yit." 

" And, Tom," 1 asked, " how long were you on the moon, and 
how did you get off?" 

" I karn't 'zactiy say how long I war thar, case, ye see, thar 
hain't no clocks on thet planet, nur no Yankees ter make 'um :" 



THE POOR WHiTp MAN. .113 

and he. looked slyly at me, while the parson broke into a broad 
laugh, saying : 

" You owe him one, Mr. ." 

" I acknowledge the debt," I replied ; " but, Torn, can no 
one but a Yankee make a clock ?" 

" No 'uns but them kin make 'ooden nutmegs, bass'ood hams, 
an' clocks thet woant gwo. They makes nuthiu' else." 

" That may be true, my good fellow ; but they make them 
expressly for the southern market. No other people are green 
enough to buy them." 

" Wall, stranger, I reckon I owes ye one now, I nuver know'd 
nary uther Yankee but onst, an' he war 'bout so smart as ye is, 
fur he sold dad a clock. Shill I tell ye 'bout it V 

" Yes, but finish the moon story first." 

" It hain't a minnet long-, an' I kin eend the moon in a jiffen. 
Ye sees, dad hed nary clock, an' couldn't tell when the sun riz 
• — he hed a great reespect fur the sun, nuver got up afore it in 
all his life — so, when a peddler come 'long with a whole wagin- 
load uv clocks, he war dreft'ul put tert ter hev one. They vvus 
the eight-day kine, all painted up slick, an' worronted to gwo till 
the eend uv time. The peddler axed ten dollar fur 'um, an' 
dad hedn't but three. I hed two thet I'd bin a savin' up, an' 
dad wanted ter bot-re 'um, but I wouldn't a lent'um ter him ter 
save his soul, fur I know'd he'd nuver pay in nuthin' but prom- 
izes, an' fur his age, dad war the most promizin' man ye uver 
know'd on. Wall, I buttoned up my pocket, and dad eyed the 
clocks; an' sez he ter the peddier : ' Stranger, I'd loike 'un uv 
them mightily, but rocks is sca'ce, jest now ; I hain't got on'y 
three dollars in the wurle." 

" Hain't ye !" said the peddler ; ' wall thet's a all-fired pity ; 



114 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

but bein's ye's a monstrus nice sort o' man, an bein's I allers 
kind o' took ter secli folks as ye is, ye kin hev a clock fur yer 
three dollars. But I wouldn't sell 'un ter nary uther man for 
thet money, nohow.' 

" Wall, dad tuck the clock, and the peddler tuck the money 
and mosey'd off." 

" Dad sot druffel high on thet clock. He took on over it 
fur all the wurle, jest like a chile over a new playthin'. He got 
up airlicr, an' sot up later then I uver know'd him afore, jest tor 
yere it strike, but arter a few days it stopped strikiu', an' nuver 
struck agin ! Dad wus sold — an' sold, too, by a rantankerous 
Yankee ; an' dad allers 'counted (but mind, stranger, I doan't 
guv this as my 'pinion) thet a Yankee ar a leetle the measliest 
critter in all creation. Wall, not more'n a month arter thet, as 
dad an' I wus a wuckin' in the corn patch 'un day, who shud 
come 'long the road but the Yankee peddler. As soon as 
dad seed him he sez ter me, sez he : ' Bullets an' blisters, Tom ! 
but thar's thet outdacious Yankee ! Now, ef I doan't strike bet- 
ter time on his noggin then his dingnation clocks uver struck in 
all thar lives, I'll pike sti'et fur kingdom-come, ef I hes ter gwo 
afoot." Bilin' with wrath, dad moseyed fur the peddler; but he 
hedn't more'n got inside 'o hearin', 'fore the Yankee bawled out : 
' I say, Mister, ye's got a clock as b'longs ter me. It woan't 
gwo, an' I want's ter get it, aa' guv ye 'un as wull gwo. I hed 
jest 'un bad one in the lot, an' I'se bin a sarchin' fur it 'mong 
nigh onter a hun'red folks I'se sold clocks ter, an hain't found 
it yit, so ye mus' hev tucken it ; I knows ye did, case I sees it in 
yer eye.' 

"That mellored dad ter oust, an' ter own the truth, it guv me 
a sort o' good 'pinion uv the Yankee. Wall, dad and he swopped 



THE POOR WHITE MAN. 115 

clocks, an' the peddler stayed ter dinner — an' the old man 'udnt 
take a red fur't, he ^Yar so taken with him. As he wus a gwine 
ter leave, the peddler ope'd the hind eend uvhis wagin, an' takin' 
ont a peck measure, heapin' full of whot 'peared the tallest oats 
thet uver grow'd, he sez ter me, sez he : ' Tom, ye an' yer farder 
hcs bin 'mazin clever ter me, an' I nuver loikes ter be obligated 
ter no body, so yere's some o' the finest plantin' oats ye uver 
know'd on ; take 'um ; they'll grow ye a monstrous tall crop, as 
big as oak trees.' 

" Now ye sees, I lied a four-year-old mar I'd a raised up with 
my own ban's. I sot drefful high on bar, an'- she got dreft'ul 
high on oats, an' I'd bin a savin' up them two dollars s'pressly 
ter buy seed ter make a crap fur her privat' eatin'. So, when I 
seed them oats o' the peddler's they filled my eye, loike the 
camel filled the eye of the needle in Scriptur'. lie hedn't guv'n 
me 'nuff ter gwo no distance in plantin', but bein' he war so 
gen'rous loike, I couldn't ax him ter guv more, so I sez ter him : 
' Stranger, wouldn't ye sell a bushel o' them oats ?' 

" ' Wall, Tom,' he sez ; ' bein's it's ye, an' ye an' yer farder 
is sech monstrous clever folk, I doan't know but I'd sell ye the 
whole on 'um, fur the fact ar' they's too hearty loike fur my boss ; 
ye see the feller's got a sort o' weak stomach, an' can't 'gest 'um. 
I guess thar's nigh on ter five bushel, an' bein's they hain't uv no 
use ter me, ye shill have the whole on 'um fur them ar' two 
dollars o' yourn.' Now, I figger'd on my fingers, an' foun' thet 
warn't moi'c'n forty cents a bushel ; an' oats, sech^as war raised 
in our diggius, an' they wara't no way nigh so nice as them — 
went fur sixty, so ye kin reckon I tuck 'um, an' ye mought 
b'lieve it rained big blessin's on thet peddler 'bout the time he 
druv off". Ile'd altered my 'pinion o' the Yanks' 'pletely, an' I 



116 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

tole him he orter make hisself inter a wild raunao-'ree, an travil the 
whole southin kentry, jest ter show folk whot the Yankees raaly 
is ; fur I know'd ef he done it they'd swap thar 'pinions jest as 
I hed, an' thet ye know would do a mighty heap to'ardsperper- 
tratin' the Union. Wall, arter he war gone, I tuck the live 
bushel inter the house, an' kivered 'urn up keerful in the cock- 
loft; but, feelin' mighty gen'rous loike, on 'count uv my big 
bargin', I thor't I'd guv the mar a sort o' Christmus dinner o' 
the peck measure full. So I put 'um afore her, an' she smelled 
on 'um raveinous mad fur a minuet, but then she turned up 
har nose, an' wouldn't luck at 'um agin." 

" She found them too hearty loike ; I suppose," I said, re- 
straining a strong inclination to laugh. 

" I 'spose she did, an' I reckon they mould hev bin raather 
hard o' 'gestion, fur they wus shoe pegs !" 
" Shoe pegs ?" 

" Yas, shoe pegs ! The durnation Yankee hed a scowrn the 
hull deestrict, an' found no 'un green 'nuff ter buy 'um, but 
me." 

Amid the general laugh which ensued, I asked : 
" And how about the clock? how did that turn out?" 
" 'Twus wuss nur 'tother — it nuver struck onst." 
" Well that Yankee was smart," said the captain. " It takes 
a smart one to get ahead of you, Tom." 

" He didn't git ahead uv me," replied Tom, with comic in- 
dignation. "-I wus three dollars inter him when I cfot shut o' 
them oats. Ye sees, I toted 'um ter Pikeville, an' sold 'um fur 
whot they raaly wus — shoe pegs — an' got five dollars fur the 
lot. The peddler mought hev done it, ef he could onyhow hev 
brought his mind to act honest, but he'd ruther cheat fur half 



THE POOR WHITE MAN. 117 

price, nnr trade fa'r fur full pay. An' tliet's the sort o' Yankee 
ye's sent 'mong ns, Stranger. They's done aheap to'ards guvin 
us a bad 'pinion on yo, an' brungin' on tliis war." 

" I know they have. I blush to think I was born on the 
same planet with some of them. But, Tom, about getting down 
from the moon. How did you do that?" 

" Why," replied Tom, with a sang froid that was perfectly 
inimitable, " I jest waited till the moon come round ter the yerth 
agin, an' when it got 'bout over dad's dea'l'nin', I let myself 
drap, an' landed squar in the yam-patch, sound as ye sees me. 
I moseyed fur home, an' told dad whar I'd bin ; an' dad sez tev 
me, sez he: 'Bully fur ye, Tom; yer a raal chip o' the old 
block ; ye kin travil or spin a yarn nigh up ter yer fader, an' 
thet 's sayin' a heap.' An' it war sayin' a heap, for dad could 
lie loike a parson." 

After the merriment which followed Tom's stories had sub- 
sided, I said to him : 

" Speaking of riding round the moon in that ' kerridge' so 
like a coffin, reminds me of once travelling in a coffin myself." 

" An' how wus it, stranger," asked Tom ; " d'ye b'licve ye 
kin tell a bigger story than thet 'bout the moon ?" 

" Not a bigger one, but one a little — truer.'''' 

" Ef ye kin come ony nigher the truth then thet an' not hit 
it, I'd loike ter hev ye." 

" Well, I'll try, but I shall hit it — a thing I reckon you sel- 
dom do. It was late in November, twelve years ago. I was 
coming from Florida with Edward C. Cabell, the Confederate 
general who is now giving us so much trouble in Arkansas. It 
had rained very hard all day, and when, at dark, we reached 
Albany — a little town in South- Western Georgia — we found the 



118 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

Flint River had risen twenty-five feet. It poured down all that 
nigiit, and in the morning we learned that the stage, which was 
to have taken us to Oglethorpe — the terminus of the Savannah 
Railroad — had not arrived, and that the bridges over all the 
streams for miles around had been swept away by the freshet. 
This was unpleasant news to both of us, for Cabell was anxious 
to be in Washington at the opening of Congress (of which he 
was a member), and important business demanded my imme- 
diate attention in Savannah. Crossing the streams we supposed 
to be impossible ; so we decided to take a horse, buggy, and 
negro driver, and attempt to head them in the up-country. We 
would have to ride neai'ly two hundred miles over rough roads, 
when it was only fifty to the railroad by the direct route; but" 
that we thought better than waiting a fortnight in so desolate a 
place as Albany. It would be all of that time before the bri<lges 
were repaired, for people in that region are not over ' fast' — in 
such respects. We started, and riding about six miles, came 
to a place called Box Ankle — one house, and a cross-road dog- 
gery — and the planter there told us that the Kicafoonee, a creek 
about a mile distant, could be safely swum on the back of a mule, 
and that he would ferry us over, in that manner for a ' fa'r con- 
sideration.' The temptation of swapping two hundred miles for 
fifty was very great, and we rode down to the stream to lecon- 
noitre. It was fully three dmndred yards wide, and the current 
Avas running ' like time.' Cabell thought ' the longest way round 
the shortest way,' to Congress, but I decided to take the direct 
route and risk the creeks. Agreeing to take charge of my trunk, 
and to leave it at Savannah, Cabell turned about for the up- 
country, while I, stripping off my lower garments and tying 
them to my shoulder, mnunted the mule, and breasted the ' swift- 



THE POOR WHITE MAN. 119 

flowing waters' of the Kicafoonee. I got safely over, and, walking 
on about a mile, came upon a planter, who kindly gave me ' a 
lift' to the Relay Station of the Stage Company. Then I se- 
cured a conveyance to the Mnckalee, another creek about three 
miles beyond Starksville. Arriving at the creek, I found it as 
swollen and furious as the Kicafoonee, and none of the planters 
in the vicinity willing to risk a mule in an attempt to cross it. 
I was pondering the adnge, 'Make haste slowly,' when the 
thought of a boat occun-ed to me. 

"'No one yere 'bouts hcs one or knows how ter build one,' said 
the planter to whom I made application, 

" ' But, your negro boy here can build a cofBn ;' (he was jnst 
driving the last nail into a monstrous large one) ' if he can 
do that, he can build a boat. I'll show him how.' 

" ' I doan't b'lieve he kin, Stranger ; he nuver went more'n a 
coffin.' 

" ' Well, this is mightily like a boat ; what will y.ou take 
for it ?' 

" ' The old 'ooraan orter to be buried ter-day — the fact ar 
she's bin 'bove ground too long a'ready — but ef ye want it right 
bad, I reckon ye kin have it far five dollars.' (It was worth 
about fifty cents.) 

" ' How deep is the stream V 
" ' 'Bout ten foot, ter the deepest.'- 

"' Well, give me some tar and a long pole, and the money is 
yours.' 

" Calking the coffin with tar and some strips of old bagging, 
and nailing a cleat across its middle for a seat, I divested myself 
of my clothing, to be able to swim more freely in case of ' ship- 
wreck,' and ' launched my bark' on the Muclialee. I got on 



120 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

' swimmingly' till I reached the middle of the creek ; then, the 
current caught the coffin, and carried it at least two miles down 
the run to where a jutting bank had made a strong eddy in the 
stream. Floating into this whirlpool, the coffin began sailing 
round and round, and kept on sailing round and round for a 
full hour, despite the united efforts of the pole and myself to ex- 
tricate it. Night was coming on, and staying there after dark was 
a thing not to be thought of. I was not more than a hundred 
feet from shore, so I resolved to attempt swimming to it. Strap- 
ping my clothes to my shoulder with m^j suspenders, as I had 
done when I swam the mule, I lowered myself into the stream, 
and at the end of half-an-hour, after desperate effort, and once 
or twice giving myself up for lost, I reached the land." 

" An' whot come on the coffin ?" asked Tom. 

"I don't know. It may be there yet." 

" I reckon it ar," he replied, dryly. 

"Then you don't believe the story." 

" Wall, Stranger, I kin gwo it all 'cept the swimmin'. But 
the man as 'tempts ter swim one o' them runs when they's up, ar 
uther a rantankerous fool or a — Yankee, an' some reckon one 
'bout the same as t'other," 

" Well, Tom, I knew when I was whirling about in that 
coffin that I wus a rantankerous fool and a Yankee to boot. 
However, the story is true." 

" And how did Cabell get through ?" inquired the parson. 

" After various other mishaps, I reached Oglethorpe at the 
end of seven days, and found Cabell quietly picking his teeth 
on the porch of the hotel. He had been there just long enough 
to eat his dinner ; so, you see, ' the longest way round is tho 
shortest way to Congress,' after all." 



THE POOR WHITE MAN. 121 

" 'Ludin' ter freshets, stranger," said Tom, " 'minds me uv 
'un we bed onst in Bladsoe, whar" 

But the other stories that Tom told, while they might further 
illustrate the broad native humor of the South, and that spirit 
of exaggeration which is so important an element in it, and in 
the Southern character, will keep till the war is over, when you 
and I, reader, may not feel that we are wasting on idle tales, 
time and thought that should be given to our country. 
6 



132 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE OLD NEGRO S STORY. 



My pen lingers lovingly over those four companions, around 
that little pine table, in that quiet camp by the Cumberland. 
Each is a " character " and a " representative man" in his way 
and I long to fill out the sketch I have outlined, and to picture, 
"as large as life and twice as natural," the brave young captain, 
the type, as he is, of the glorious West; the droll, earnest chap- 
lain, divested of his clerical clothes, and his soul broadened 
from long contact with the free life of the prairies ; the uncouth, 
fun-loving old negro, who, by the parson's reckoning, is bound, 
in spite of lying, stealing, and whisky-drinking, to be "in Heav- 
en a thousand years before any white man living ;" and the rough- 
hewn, irresistible, and indescribable Tom, with his simple heart, 
his sturdy sense, his rare truth, and magnificent lying, all of 
which go to make him the type of the poor white yeomanry of 
the South — the " mean trash," as the chivalry call them, but no 
more " trash" than is the oak, which stands strong, rugged, 
and rough-coated in the forest, waiting to be fashioned into 
forms of use and beauty. 

What a mass of exaggeration he was! How he magnified 
every thing, even himself! He could " whip twice his heft in 
Secesh, bars, or rattlesnakes. With the captain on his back, 
he could " outrun creation and give it two mile the start." 
Though not given to drinking, he could tote a " barr'I of 



THE OLD negro's STORY. 123 

whisky," and then pace " abee line on the brink of a presurpiss." 
Even when he went afoot, he " piked faster than a horse kin 
trot," and when he rode, lie out-traveled two tornadoes hitched 
to a jockey-wagon and driven by a darky in livery. He " 'lowed" 
he was io-norant, but he know'd a log from seven dollars and a 
quarter, and if he seldom thought, when he did think, lie went 
" plumb down lowerin' " the bottom of things, and up to where 
imagination grows dizzy, and has to steady herself with a gin 
cocktail. He didn't believe he was " horned fur the stump," 
but when he got through the " National Speaker " — which the 
captain had lent him — he know'd he could talk the legs off the 
parson, though he had hard him spout chain-lightning in the ' 
breaks of a thunder-storm. He reckoned Heaven was a pretty 
comfortable sort of a place, but not quite up to some parts of 
" Bladsoe " County ; but " Bladsoe " itself wouldn't be fit for 
white men to live in if the Union was split to flinders. And if- 
tliet happins, stranger, who'll ye git ter make anuther Decel'- 
ration uv Independence ? Only two livin' men kin do it — me 
an' Gin'ral Jackson, an' the Gin'ral's dead, an' me — why I hain't 
got right well inter the writin' bizness yit." 

" Split the Union," I echoed, " never fear that, Tom ; you 
can't split a rotten log." 

" No more'n ye can't. Stranger," replied Tom, " an' 'tween 
ye small-soulded, lucre-luvin' Yankees, an' them blue-blasted, 
nigger-tradin' Secesh, the kentry ar got ter be, 'bout as rottin 
as sin." 

What a picture he would make, drawn with a skilful hand, 
at full length — " six foot three, without leathers !" Some day 
my pen may attempt him, but now — T must go on with my yarn. 

On the following morning I rose early to set out for Murfrees- 



124 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

boro. Arriving at the railway station, I deposited my trunk in 
the baggage car, and was quietly proceeding to take a seat 
among the passengers, when a civil young man, in a half-military 
costume, arrested my steps at the foot of the platform, with : 
" Please show your pass, Sir." 

I remembered having heard that summons before, and, at 
once, drew from ray pocket a sheet of foolscap ornamented with 
General Burnside's autograph. 

" This will not do, Sir. We have strict orders to pass no 
one down without a permit from head-quarters." 

" General Burnside told me this would pass me anywhere in 
the United States." 

" But you are not in the United States, Sir. Tennessee has 
joined New Jersey, and gone out of the Union." 

" Well, what shall I do ?" 

" Go to General Morgan's headquarters, and ask them to tele- 
graph to Murfreesboro. You'll get a reply in an hour." 

This would detain me at Nashville another day, but there was 
no help for it, so, reshipping my trunk, I rode back to the 
liotel. After an hour spent in parleying with General Morgan's 
aide, another hour in waiting fur a reply to the telegram, and 
still another hour in again dancing attendance on the same aid — a 
consequential young gentleman, who will probably be a Brigadier 
by the time his beard begins to grow (Government has made 
at least a baker's dozen of the same sort), I placed the " open- 
sesame" document in my pocket, and went my way, inwardly 
resolving never again to set foot in Tennessee till the passport 
system is abolished. 

The day was on my hands, and, having nowhere else to go, I 
turned my steps toward the tent of the Illinois chaplain. Pass- 



THE OLD negro's STOKT. 125 

ing the Governor's house on my way — a large, square, dingy 
brick building, opposite the Capitol — I left ray letters at the 
door, and walked on to the open fields beyond the town. A 
half a mile away I came upon the city cemetery, a beautiful spot, 
with growing grass, and waving trees, and unnumbered flowers 
growing over low mounds, and in one corner, half a thousand 
new-made graves with little white headboards, whose simple in- 
scriptions told that the soldiers of the Union were sleeping be- 
neath them. 

One of these graves was open, and an old negro was filling it 
with earth — singing as he worked. Seating myself on the low 
paling, I listened to his song. These are soi 'c of the words : 

"Say, darkies, hab you seed de Massa 
Wid de muflftash on his face, 
Gwo long de road some time dis mornin', 

Like he gwine ter leab de place? 
He toted 'way a boss and saddle, 

An' forgot ter leab de pay ; 
So I spec' he'm jined de big skedaddle ; 
I spec' he'm run away. 

De massa run, ha ! ha I 

De darky stay, ho ! ho ! 
It mus' be now de kingdom comin' 
An' de year of Jubilo. , 

"He lefFahind some likely darkies, 

A suffrin' bad wid grief, 
Fur dat dar high and mighty massa 

Hab turn a mean hoss-tief ! 
Dey greab as ef dey wus his chillen, 

An' I hafi" suspec' dey ar' ; 
For dey's his nose, his big base fiddle, 
An' his reddish wooly ha'r. 

De massa run, ha ! ha 1 

De darky stay, ho ! ho I 
It mus' be now de Icingdom comin', 
An' de year of Jubilo." 



126 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" Lamenting for your master, eh, Uncle ?" I said, approaching 
him. It was wrong in him to turn 'hoss-tief.' " 

The old man paused at his work, and turning on me, with a 
look of wounded pride, said curtly : 

" My massa hain't no hoss-tief, Sar. He neber done no sech 
t'ing as dat — neber, Sar !" 

*' I only took your word for it — that's all," I answered, laugh- 
ing. 

" Oh, dat warn't my massa, Sar," he replied, good naturedly ; 
" dat wus some of dem low Secesh. My massa run away, Sar, but 
he'm a gemmen ; he leab ebery t'ing ahind, eben ole Joe." 

" And did you ^ ant to go with him ?" 

" Oh no, Sar ! / hain't no secesh ; an' I wus fotched up dis 
away, in Nashville. Massa kndw'd I didn't want ter leab, an' 
he reckoned I could shirk fur myself, somehow, Sar." 

"And how do you get on shirking for yourself?" I asked; 
" you are very old." 

He seemed at least seventy. His hair was white and his 
body greatly bowed, and scarcely more than a skeleton. 

" Oh, bery well, Massa, bery well. Union folk bery good ter 
me, Sar. Eberybody 'pear sort o' kin'er ter ole Joe, eber sence 
de pore boy wus a killed — eber sence he wus a killed, Sar ;" and 
resting on the handle of his spade he brushed away a great tear 
that was rolling down his cheek. 

" And have you lost a son in the war ?" 

" Gran'son, Massa, down ter Stun riber ; an' he wus a all I 
lied, Massa — all I hed, ever sence de ole 'ooman die ; an' she 
gwo more'n two year ago — more'n two year ago ;" and again 
his hand found its way to his eyes. 

" And was he killed in the battle ?" 



THE OLD negro's STORY. 127 

"No, Sar; dey didn't 'low no brack folks fur sogers den. 
Dey wouldn't leff him figlit, Sar, but dey leff him be shot down 
in cole blood — in cole blood, Sar !'' 

" In cold blood ! How was it ? Tell me." 

To screen myself from the rays of the sun I had taken a seat 
on a low head-stone, in the shade of a small tree. When I 
asked this question the old negro, laying aside his spade, squat- 
ted on the grass near me, and then in broken sentences, and with 
frequent interruptions, expressive of the intensity of his feelings, 
he told me about his grandson. 

" You sees, Massa, his pore rauddcr — de on'y chile we eber 
hed — die when Peter was a bery little t'ing, not no higher'n dat 
grabestone, so he wus a fotched up 'long ob we ole folks, like 
as ef he wus our own chile. He wus a great comfurt ter us, Sar, 
an' eberybocly tuck ter him, an' eberybody say whot a likely boy 
Peter wus — he'd a sole ony time fur a tousand dollar, an' in 
good backer times (he wuck'd in a backer fact'ry) he'd a brung 
fifteen hun'red, easy, Sar. Wall, when de Secesh make de big- 
skedaddle, massa gwoed long, an he tuck Peter wid him, Dat 
a'most broked my ole heart, Sar, 'case he wus all I hed — all I 
hed, Sar ; but it wus de Lord's will, an' 'sides it couldn't be 
holped, nohow. Wall, Peter kept 'long wid de Secesh nigh 
outer a y'ar, an' den dey want ter make him gunner ter a bat'ry, 
but Peter tole 'em he wouldn't fi't de nordern gemmen, dat am 
friends ter de brack folks, no way — not fur no 'sid'ration, Sar. 
Den dey gib him a awfu' whippin', an' lock him up in de jail. 
He got 'way dough, an' af er mos' credible suftrin', Sar, de got 
widin de lines. Dat wus 'bout de time dat Gin'ral Rosey wus 
a gwiue ter smite de Phillistuns wid do lijp an' t'igh, down dar 
ter Stun riber. Wall, dey want Peter ter gwo 'long wid de 



128 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

wagins, an' Peter axed me whot he should a do. Now, he wus 
all I hed, Sar. all I hed ; an' I sot my bery life on dat boy, but 
I tole him," and here the old man straightened up his bent form, 
and his shrunken features assumed a look of quiet dignity. " I 
tole him, sar, dat he hedn't but one life, an' ter gib dat fur his 
country, an' de brack folks. An' he doae it, Sar ! He done it. 
An' ef dey'd on'y gib'p him a musket, Sar !" (Here, swaying 
his body to and fro, he burst into a paroxysm of grief,) " on'y 
gib'n him a musket, Sar, an' leff him fit de Secesh — but, ter die 
so, Sar — ter die so ; it wus too hard — it clean broke ole Joe's 
heart, Sar." 

" And how did he die, Uncle ?" I asked when he became some- 
what composed. 

" I'll a tell you, Sar. It wus dis a way. Petei\ he gwo off 
wid de wagins, an' I gwo off wid him, 'case, ye sees, I couldn't 
be ob no use yere, an' dar wus no tellin' but I mought do sufin 
down dar ; sides, I couldn't bar ter be 'way frum Peter, fur suffin 
yere, Sar (laying his hand on his heart), telled me dat trubble 
wus a comin'. Wall, on de day ob de fust battle we wus in de 
r'ar — 'bout firty wagins on us, all wid brack dribers, an' a white 
leftenau' — an' a planter libin' 'bout dar rid up an' telled de lef- 
tenan' dat McCook wus a druv ter nowhar, an' dat he'd jess a 
seed Wheeler's calvary — 'bout free thousand on um — headin' 
norf, an' he reckoned dey wus a gwine ter come down on Gunnel 
Innis up ter Laverne. He say some one orter gwo up an' leff 
de cunnel know, but he couldn't a gwo, case he went fur Secesh, 
an' ebery one round dar know'd him, De leftenan' he say I'd 
hab ter gwo, case der wus no one dat could be speered but me 
— ye sees, Peter an' me driv de same wagin, an' hed de same 
wages ; but de leftenan', he sot high on me, an' he gib me my 



THE OLD NEGFwO's STORY. 129 

rations, so I tort I could gib my does ter de country. We 
hcdn't none but de wagin bosses, but de pLinter, he say we wus 
welcome ter his'n ; so I got on ter liim, an' rid off ter tell Gun- 
nel Innis. (De Lord's hand was in dat, Sar. Sometimes lie 
cut down de young saplin's an' leab de ole trees a' grovvin'.) 1 
telled Gunnel Innis whot de planter say, an' de cunnel, dough he 
hedn't more'n 'bout free hun'red men, 'peared bery glad ter yere 
it — he'm de gemmen, Sar, dat ' doan't surrender much.' Wall, 
de cunnel he treat me jess like I wus a white man, an' make me 
tarry dar ober night. Airly de nex' morniu' I gwues back ter 
whar de wagins wus, an' dey wusn't dar, but dar, all around, de 
ground wus a cohered wid brack men — shotted down — dead !" 

Here the old negro paused for a moment. His lips moved 
silently, but he shed no tears. I said nothing, and he soon re- 
sumed his stSry. 

" I luck'd all 'bout, an' I couldn't fine no sign ob Peter; but 
arter a while I gwoed down de pike, an' dar, right in de middle 
ob de road, wus some 'un in Peter's cloes, wid his head so 
nigh blowed off dat I couldn't a tell who he wus. I couldn't 
b'lieve it wus Peter, but I kneeled down aside ob him an' pray- 
ed, an' den I feel in his pocket, an' fine de Bible I bed gib'n ter 
Peter. It wus him ! I shot my eyes, an' groaned. When I 
open'd 'um agin de sky was brack — it warn't more'n ten in de 
mornin' — and de yerth wus brack, an' dar warn't no sun, nur no 
moon, nur no stars in de heabens, an' de Lord hisself 'peared 
ter hab leff de univarse. I sot dar, an' sot dar, an' sot dar, 
right in de road, how long I'll neber know, an' at lass de boss 
— I'd a leff him gwo a browsin' in de woods — come up ter me, 
an' puttin' his head down ter mine, cried an' whinner'd jess 
loike he know'd de great trubble dat was on me. Dat sort o' 
6* 



130 DOWN IN TENNESSEE 

brung me ter m\'seff, an' tinkin' de pore critter wonted some 
water, I riz up, an' drawin' Peter under a tree, I leff him dar, 
fur I'd nufi"in' ter bury him wid ; an' 'sides, I tort ef he wus 
above ground de Lord — ef der wus any Lord lefF — couldn't holp 
seein' him, an' so He'd be a sort o' ' Ubin witness' agin dem as 
bed murdered him." 

" And who murdered him ?" I asked, 

" De Wheeler calvary dat we'd bin a warned agin. Dey 
come onter de train right arter I gwoed 'way, tuck de wagins, 
an' shot down de dribers in cole blood, 'case dey wus brack. 
De leftenan', he sot high on Peter, an' when he seed whot dey 
wus a doin', he tole de Secesh major he'd gib a t'ousand dollar 
fur Peter's life. But de major, he say he warn't no nigger-tra- 
der an' den he put his 'volvcr right squar agin Peter's head, an' 
blow his brains all ober de leftenan'. De lertenau' wus a 
'changed arterwuds, an' telled me all 'bout how it wus." 

" Wall I toted de boss off ter de run 'bout a mile back, but he 
wouldn't a drink — 'peared loike he knowed whot wus a comin' 
on him, an' didn't keer 'bout nuffiu' more on dis yerth. I'd a 
yered de cannon a firin' off on de battle-tield all de mornin', an' 
I wanted ter git out ob trubble — I knows dat wus wrong, Sar, 
but I couldn't holp it — so I turn de boss roun' an' gwoes off ter 
de battle — dey didn't call it no battle dat day, but dey kep' a 
firin' de big guns all de time. I hadn't rid more'n free mile 'fore 
a shot hit de pore boss on de shoulder, right afore me, an' kill 
him ter onst. At fust I tort I wus dead, too, fur I was fro wed 
a long way, but I warn't hurted at all. Wall, de boss die, an' 
I couldn't do nuffin for him, so I gits up an' gwoes on nigher 
terde battle. I walk on, an' walk on, an' at lass I come ter de 
place whar dey fit so two days arterwuds — dey call it ' Hell's- 



THE OLD NEGKO'S STORY. 131 

half-acre' — it'in clus ter whar de pike runs inter de railroad. 
Dey say dar warn't no battle a gwine on den, but de balls was 
a tivin' round dar ticker dan bank bills in 'backer times. It 
'peared jess de place, so I sot down dar, 'long side de road, an' 
waited fur de shot dat shud send me ter Peter. Ye sees, he 
wus all I bed, all I bed, Sar, an' I feel den like I couldn't lib 
wid out him, fur it wus dark wid me, an' dar 'peared no Lord 
in de heabens." 

" Wall, I sot dar, an' sot dar, an' sot dar, an' de sogers march 
'long, an' de calvary rid by, an' de sun gwo down, an' de night 
come on, an' de storm riz up, an' wetted me fru an' fru ter de 
bery skin, an' I neber feel it 'case no shot come and send me ter 
Peter. At lass — it wus jess sun up de next mornin' — a whole lot 
of cavlary, nigh a hun'red, come tunderiu' down de road, an' when 
dey gits ober agin me, somebody cry ' Halt !' an' dey all stop 
chock still, like dey'd bin a shot, all ter oust. Den a geminan 
say ter me in a bery kine voice — so satf an' sweet, Sar, as ony 
music you eber yered : 

" Uncle, what am you doin' dar?" 

"I look up an' seed who he was — I'd a seed him afore, Sar, 
an' I know'd him ter oust— nobody eber seed^im an' forgot 
him. Wall, I look up, an' tole him, all cryin' an' moanin' as 
I was : 

" Dey's killed Peter, Gin'ral— shot him down wid de wagins, 
in cole blood, an' I's yere 'case I wants ter die, Gin'ral, 'case I 
wants some ob do shot ter fotch me out ob trubble." 
" What general was it ?" I asked. 

" What gin'ral wus it, Sar !" echoed the old negro. " What 
Oder gin'ral dan Gin'ral Rosey, would hab done sich a t'ing as 
dat, Sar? stop dar, right in de road, wid all him big officers, jess 



132 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

ter say a kine word ter a pore ole darky, as lie seed wus in 
trubble ?" 

" Well, what did lie say to you ?" 

" He tole me 'bout Petfer, Sar, an' lie tork ob bim jess like lie 
know'd him ; but he didn't, 'case he couldn't a know'd a pore 
brack boy like Peter wus, nohow. He tole me dat I musn't 
grebe fur Peter, 'case he wus better off dan ef he wus a drivin' 
de wagins; dat it wus a glorious t'ing ter die fur yer country ; 
dat Peter 'd a done it, jess so much as if he'd a died wid a mus- 
ket in his hand ; dat Gin'ral Washington, nur none ob de great 
men, eber done more'n Peter done, fur he'd a gib'n all he hed — 
his life — fur freedom. An' he say dat dem as done dat wus 
bery precious in de sight ob de Lord ; dat He treasured 'um up, 
up dar," and the old man pointed upward ; " an' called 'um His 
jewels, an' kep' 'um in His eyesight fur eber an' ehar. Dat wus 
whot de gin'ral say, Sar ; but it warn't so much whot he say, as 
de wa^ he say it, dat tuck de load off my heart, an' brung de 
light inter my eyes agin. I karn't tell you how he say it, Sar, 
but it 'peared ter me like he'd a bin a ole brack man onst hisseff, 
an' know'd all de trubble dey feels when dey hain't nuffin in all 
de worle, an' h^ loss dat. Wall, den he say, ' Tompey,* send 
two men ter gwo 'long wid dis pore brack man an' bury Peter,' 
an den he say, ' Good-bye, Uncle,' an' rid off. 'Bout a hour 
arter dat I yere de cannon begin, an' he wus right araung 'um, 
but nary shot hit bim, Sar, an' nary shot neber will hit him, fur 
I prays fur him all de time, day an' night, an' de Lord Lab 
promise ter yere de prayer ob dem as tries ter be His chillen." 

" Den de light come ter me agin, Sar, and I seed de Lord wus 

♦ Charles K. Thompson, of Bath, Me., then an Aide of General Eosecrans, now Colonel 
of the First Tennessee (colored) Regiment. A young man of twenty-three, who enter- 
ed the army as a private. One of " the bravest of the brave." 



THK OLD negro's STOEY. 133 

in de heabens, arter all ; an' dough Peter's gone, an' de ole 
'ooman's gone, an' I'se bery ole, an' hain't got nnffin in all de 
worle, de light an' love ob de Lord hab bin all 'round mc eber 
sence de gin'ral spoke so kine ter nie down dar on do battle- 
ground. He'ni one ob de Lord's chillen, Sar ; one ob His bery 
best chillen ; His chosen chile, Sar, dat am a gwine ter fotch dis 
people out ob de land ob Egypt, an' out ob de house yb bond- 
age. He will, Sai", fur de Lord am wid him," 



134 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



0uAf^^ 



CHAPTER X. 



THE KEGIMENTAL HOSPITAL. 



Leaving tlie old negro at work in the grave-yard, I resumed 
my way to the tent of the Illinois chaplain. The sun was just 
sinking behind the trees which skirt the western environs of 
Nashville when I entered its low doorway. 

" Yere'm de Nordern gemman," exclaimed the sooty represent- 
ative of the great Eoman, as I made my appearance. " I's 
telled ye, Massa Parson, de Yankees can't do eberyting. Dey 
can't git fru de rod tape dey hab round yere." 

Giving no heed to the negro's remark, the chaplain, who was 
drawing on his coat as if to go out, welcomed me cordially, and 
invited me to accompany him to the hospital of the regiment. 
" One of my boys is dying," he said — " a Tennessee boy,wounded 
at Stone River. He has lingered till now, but now is going." 

Walking rapidly across the open fields, we entered, at the end 
of a short half-hour, a dingy warehouse in the very heart of the 
city. About fifty low cots were ranged along the two sides of 
a narrow, cheerless apartment on the ground floor of this build- 
ing, and on one of them the wounded soldier was lying. His 
face was pallid, his eyes were fixed, a cold, clammy sweat was 
on his forehead — he was dying. Sitting at his feet was a lad of 
sixteen; and kneeling at his side, her hand in his, was a middle- 
aged woman, with worn garments, and a thin, sorroA^ -marked 
face. 



THE REGIMENTAL HOSPITAL, 135 

" You are too late ! lie is almost gone," said the colonel of 
the regiment, as we paused before the group. 

The chaplain made no reply, but slowly uncovered his head, 
for the dying man was speaking. 

"Mother," he said, "good-by. And you, Tom, good-by. 
Be of good heai't, mother. God Avill take care of you, and save 

— save the ." A low sound then rattled in his throat, and 

he passed away, with the name of his country on his lips. 

The mother bent down and closed the eyelids of her dead son ; 
and then, kissing again and again liis pale face, turned to go 
away. As she did so, the chaplain, taking her hand in his, said 
to her : 

" The Lord gave : the Lord hath taken away." 

Looking up to him with tranquil face and tearless eyes, the 
woman answered : 

" ' Blessed be the name of the Lord.' They have murdered 
my husband, Mr. Chapl'in, my oldest boy, and now John, too, 
is gone." Then, laying her hand on the shoulder of her living 
son, she turned to the colonel, and while her voice trembled a 
very little, she added : " lie's all I've got now, Mr. Gunnel — give 
him John's place in the rigiment." 

A tear rolled down the colonel's weather-beaten cheek, and he 
turned his face away, but said notliing. Tliere was a convulsive 
twitching about the chaplain's firm-set mouth, as he said : 

" The Spartan mother gave only two sons to her country : 
would you give three .^" 

•" I'd give all — all I've |[ot, Mr. Ghapl'in," was the low answer. 

And this was a " poor white" woman ! Her words should be 
heard all over the land. They should go down in history, and 
make her name — Rachkl Somers — imu)ortal. 



136 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

Passing on to the farther end of the room, the chaplain said 
to a deUcate young girl who was attending the sick : 

" Lucy, are you willing to show your wounds to this gentle- 
man ?" 

The young girl blushed, but modestly undoing her dress, 
showed me the upper part of her back. Deep ridges, striped 
with red, blue, and white, completely covered it ! The slave- 
driver's whip, with a hundred lashes, had printed our country's 
colors on her fair skin, because she had refused to betray the 
hiding-place of her father ! 

" I could tell you of hundreds of these people," said the chap- 
lain, as he put his arm within mine, and walked with me towards 
the hotel, " who have been driven to the woods, hunted with 
blood-hounds, beaten with stripes, hung to trees, tossed on the 
points of bayonets, torn asunder with horses, quartered alive, and 
burned at slow fires, rather than deny their country or betray its 
friends. The world has seldom seen such patriotism as theirs. 
There is a grandeur about it which lifts these poor people into 
heroes, and will make their story the brightest page in the an- 
nals of this country." 

The room appropriated to me at the hotel being unfit for the 
reception of any animal higher in the scale of creation than 
"four-footed beasts or creeping things," I invited the chaplain, 
after supper, to a seat on a dilapidated chair in the long, low, 
smoky apartment which occupies the ground floor of the " Com- 
mercial Building," and is dignified with the name of office. 

The chaplain was whifling slowly a^'ay at his cigar, and re- 
counting to me, in his peculiar style, some of his campaign ex- 
periences in Dixie — during which he had wielded the sword of 
Gideon as well as the weapons of the Lord — when the red-faced 



THE REGIMENTAL HOSPITAL. 137 

landlord, with his hat in his hand, and a smirk on his face, ap- 
proached us, followed by a tall, spare, gentlemanly appearing 
man, whom he introduced as follows : 

*' Mr. , this is Secretary East — our Secretary — Edward H. 

East, Esq. You've heered uv him." 

I rose and replied that I had heard of Mr. East, and was very 
happy to meet him. Returning my greeting, the secretary said : 

" I regret that I was not at home when you left your letters 
this morning. I am acting in the Governor's absence, and shall 
be glad to serve you in any way." 

Thanking him, and saying I had already fallen into good 
hands, I asked the landlord to oblige me with a seat for my 
visitor. That worthy, who accommodates guests with bed, 
board, and broken-backed chairs, at the rate of four dollars 
per diem, looked helplessly around for a moment, and then 
replied : 

" I don't b'lieve thar's ary other cheer in the hull room." 

" Never mind, never mind," said the secretary, laughing, and 
drawing a low travelling trunk from a pile in the corner, " this 
will do." 

The second official of the great State of Tennessee seated him- 
self upon thfi trunk, and we fell into a long conversation on the 
condition of the country. In the course of it I said to him : 

" You are a Southern man, sir ; tell me, do the Rebel leaders 
really mean to establish a monarchy ?" 

" Undoubtedly they do," he replied. " They have had that 
purpose from the beginning. Their main object in bringing on 
the war was to get the Southern people into the clutches of a 
military despotism, so that they might disfranchise them, and 
thus prevent their ever overturning slaver}^ If you will come 



138 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

up to the State-House to-morrow, I will show you volumes of 
correspondence to prove this." 

" But why was it necessary to disfranchise the people ? They 
have followed the lead of the slave-lords blindly. The most of 
them think slavery promotes their interests." 

" That is true, but Northern ideas Avere working down among 
them. In Maryland, Kentucky, Missouri, and Western Virginia, 
they had spread wonderfully. Those States would have been 
free long ago if the masses had not thought emancipation would 
make the blacks the political and social equals of the whites. 
As soon as they came to be disabused of that notion, they would 
have voted slavery out of existence ; and when they had done 
that, the people in the Cotton States would have asked the 
reason why, and then slavery on this continent would have re- 
ceived its everlasting death-blow. Slavery cannot any longer live 
in the Union. The South can save it only by separation and a 
despotism." 

After some further conversation we separated, and early the 
next mornino; I set out for Murfreesboro. 



THE MAN WHO " DOn't SURRENDER MUCH." 139 



CHAPTER XL 

THE MAN WHO " DOn't SURRENDER MUCH." 

The country below Nasliville presented the same desolate ap- 
pearance as that through which I had already passed. At La- 
vergne, a whole town lay in ashes. On the direct line of com- 
munication with Murfreesboro, it had been the scene of frequent 
conflicts between the Rebel and the Union forces, and, one after 
another, its peaceful habitations had fallen before the flames. 
Its inhabitants had all fled, and two or three smoke-begrimed 
cabins were all that remained of the once thriving and happy 
village. 

" I was in the front room of that small house yonder," said 
Captain Firman, of General Wheeler's staff, to me a few weeks 
later, as we halted at this station, while he was on his way, a 
prisoner of war, to the penitentiary at Nashville, " when a shell 
from one of your batteries entered just beneath the window — 
you can see the hole from here — and exploded directly at the 
feet of Wheeler and myself. A lady sat at the piano. The 
piano was shivered into a thousand fragments, and the lady 
thrown to the farther end of the room, but not one of us was 
hurt. The general and I made a hasty exit by the rear door, 
but our companion, in her fright, ran out at the front. As she 
came under that old tree standing by the corner of the house, 



140 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

another shell burst over her head, and its fragments fell all around 
her, but, strange to say, she again escaped uninjured." 

A little elevation* at the right of the railway was the scene of 
one of the most heroic exploits of the war. There Colonel Iimis 
— warned by the old negro I have introduced to the reader — 
with a little band of three hundred and eighty-nine Michigan 
men, without artillery or other defence than a hastily thrown up 
barricade of camp-wagons and underbrush, beat off Wheeler's 
whole force of three thousand horse and two field-pieces. 

"Colonel Innis," said General Rosecrans to him on the eve of 
the battle of Stone River, " will you hold Lavergne ?" 

" I'll try, gener-al." 

" I ask if you will do it !" exclaimed the laconic general. 

" I WILL," quietly responded the colonel, and he kept his word. 

Just as the New Year's sun was sending its first greeting to 
the little band that crouched there behind the wagons, the head 
of the Rebel column emerged from the woods which skirt the 
southern side of the town, and Captain Firman, riding forward 
to the flimsy breast-work, cried out : 

" General Wheeler demands an instant and unconditional sur- 
render." 

" Give General Wheeler my compliments, and tell him we 
don't surrender much," came back to him from behind the brush- 
heaps. 

Mounting then his Kentucky roan, the heroic colonel rode 
slowly around the rude intrenchment. " Boys," he said, " they 
are three thousand — have you said your prayers ?" 

" We are ready, Colonel. Let them come on !" answered the 
brave Michigan men. 

And they did come on ! 



THE MAN WHO " DON't SUEKENDER MUCH." 141 

" Six times v.'g swept down on them," said Captain Firman to 
me, " and six times I rode up with a flag, and summoned them 
to surrender ; but each time Innis sent back the message, varied, 
now and then, with an adjective, ' We don't surrender much.' 
He sat his horse during the first charges, as if on dress parade ; 
but at the third fire I saw him g-o down. I thought we had 
winged him, but when Ave charged again, there he sat as cool as 
if the thermometer had been at zero. One of our men took de- 
liberate aim, and again he went down ; but when I rode up the 
fifth time and shouted, ' We'U not summon you again — surren- 
der at once !' it was Innis who yelled out, ' Pray don't, for zve 
dont surrender much.'' At the seventh charge I was wounded, 
and the general sent another officer with the summons. Your 
people halted him a few hundred yards from the breast-work, 
and an ofiicer, in a cavalryman's overcoat, came out to meet him. 
[' They had killed my two horses,' said Colonel Innis to me 
afterwards, ' and I was afraid they would singe my uniform — 
the fire was rather hot — so I covered it.'] 

" ' What is your rank, sir f demanded the Union ofiicer. 

" ' Major, sir.' 

" ' Go back, and tell General Wheeler that he insults me by 
sending one of your rank to treat with one of mine. Tell him, 
too, I have not come here to surrender. I shall fire on the next 
flag.' 

" It was Innis, and by that ruse he made us believe he had 
received re-enforcements. Thinking it was so, we drew off, and 
the next day Innis sent Wheeler word by a prisoner, that he had 
whipped us with three hundred and eighty-nine men !" 

About a fortnight after my arrival at Murfreesboro, as I sat 
one morning reading a newspaper in the " Aides' Room" at head- 



142 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

quarters, a tall, erect, sinewy-built, noble-featured man, with 
dark flowing hair, a long, elastic stride, and a monstrous steel- 
hilted sword dangling at his heels, and clanking heavily on the 
floor at his every step, stalked into the room, and, giving me a 
casual glance, entered General Garfield's apartment. In a mo- 
ment he returned, and, striding directly up to me, said : 

" Sir, are you the man who wrote ' Among the Pines ?' " 

There was something in his quick, abrupt voice and decided, 
energetic manner, that made me uncertain of his intentions : so, 
rising from my seat, and drawing myself up to my full height, 
I replied, in a half-defiant tone : 

" I am, sir : at your service." 

" I want to take you by the hand, sir. God bless you !" was 
the hearty response. 

Considerably relieved, I said, as I accepted his greeting : 

" And you are ?" 

" Colonel Innis — Innis of the Michigan Engineers." 

" Oh ! You are the man, who ^ don't surrender much P " 

" Not much — that is, I never did." 

Saying I would like to know him better, I asked him to be 
seated. He sat down, and fought the battle over again. When 
he had concluded, I said : 

" I met an old negro at Nashville, who told me he rode up 
from Murfreesboro and warned you of Wheeler's coming. He 
said you made him stay over night, and treated him like a white 
man." 

" I tried to, for he saved me from a surprise. Wheeler cap- 
tured all of my pickets before sunrise, and without the old dar- 
key's warning, I mightn't have been half ready. There is noth- 
ing Wheeler would like so well as to take me. We have had 



THE MAN WHO '' DOn't SURRENDER MUCH." 143 

several fights, and after each one I have sent him word how 
many men it took to whip him." 

lu a western city, a few weeks ago, I met the colonel again. 
Laying my hand on his shoulder, I accosted him with — 

" And you've not surrendered yet !" 

" Not yet," he replied, turning round and taking my hand ; 
" but I've had another brush with Wheeler. Just after Chica- 
mauga he came upon me with nearly five thousand men. I beat 
him off", and then sent him word I had whipped him with one- 
half of my regiment." 

The West has sent many brave men to the war, but none 
braver than Innis. 



144 DOWN m TENNESSEE. 



CHAPTER XII. 



BIBLE SMITH. 



As I alighted from the cars at Murfreesboro, the inevitable 
official again confronted me. 

" Can I get a conveyance to Head-quarters ?" I asked him. 

" Yes, there's an omnibus here. But the General's not in 
town. He's at the front." 

"And where can I find lodgings for a few days?" 

" Don't know. There's not a hotel or lodging-house in the 
place." 

A town of eight thousand people with not a single inn ! 
Surely this was tlie miracle of the nineteenth century. 

After a short search I found the omnibus — a cast-oiT North- 
ern coach, with a Yankee Jehu. 

" My friend," I said to him, " will you take me where I can 
sleep to-night?" 

" Yes : I'll take you to jail. It's the only house here that 
takes in strangers." 

I was about asking him to drive me to Head-quarters, in the 
hope that my letters, even in the General's absence, might 
secure me a night's lodging, when a heavy hand was laid on my 
shoulder, and a strangely familiar voice — a face we may forget, 
but a voice that has once given us pleasure, lingers in the 
memory forever — accosted me, as follows : 



BIBLE SMITH, 146 

" I know'd it wus ye. I know'd ye the rainiiit I sot eyes on ye." 

Turning on the speaker, I saw a spare, squarely-built, loose- 
jointed man, above six feet high, with a strongly marked face, 
a long, grizzly beard, and silvery black hair hanging loosely 
over his shoulders like a woman's. He wore an officer's undress 
coat, and the boots of tlie cavalry service, but the rest of his 
costume was of the common " butternut" homespun. Taking 
his extended hand, and trying hard to recall his features, I said 
to him : 

"I know your voice, but your face I don't remember." 

" Doan't remember me ! me, Bible — Bible Smith ! Why 
I'd a know'd ye ef yer face hed been blacker'n yer Whig 
principles." 

We had not met in many years, but the name brought him 
to my remembrance. Again grasping his hand, and shaking it, 
this time, with a right good will, I exclaimed : 

" I'm delighted to see you, Bible ; and to see you here — true 
to the old flag." 

" Ye raought hev know'd thet. I know'd ye war right, ef ye 
war a Whig. But ye wants ter git under kiver. I knows a 
old 'ooman yere — she's secesli way up ter the yeres, an' her 
fixins hain't nothiu' loike whot ye gits in York, but I reckon 
ef I ax her, she'll take ye in," 

" Any place will do till the General rctui'us — I have letters 
to him," 

The omnibus man went in quest of my trunk, and in a short 
time, accompanied by my new-found friend, I was on my way 
to the house of the Secession lady. Before going thither I will 
make the reader somewhat acquainted with my companion, 
in the hope that what I shall say of him mav load the public 



146 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

to think better of the whole edition of Southern " Bibles," 
who, though badly " bound," and sadly deficient in the way of 
" lettering" and " embellishment," have about as much homely 
truth and genuine worth as the more gilded things found in 
higher latitudes. 

Late in November, 1850, as I was journeying on horseback 
from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, to Louisville, Kentucky, I was over- 
taken by a storm, just at night-fall, and forced to ask shelter at 
a small farm-house near the little town of Richmond, in Bedford 
County, Tennessee, The house stood in a small clearing, a 
short distance from the highway, and was one story high, of 
hewn logs nicely clunked and whitewashed, with a project- 
ing roof, a broad, open piazza, and an enormous brick chim- 
ney-stack protrading at either gable. As I rode up to it, the 
farmer came out to meet me. He was dressed in homespun, 
and had a wiry, athletic frame, a dark, sun-browned complexion, 
an open, manly face, and a frank, cordial manner that won my 
confidence in a moment. With thirteen years less of life and 
a century less of hardship, he was the same man who met me 
at the Murfreesboro railway station. He bade me " good even- 
in' " as 1 approached him, and returning his salutation, I asked 
him for shelter for myself and horse. 

" Sartin, Stranger," he replied ; " I nuver turned away one o' 
God's images yit, ef they wus a Yankee — an' some o' them is 
drefful pore likenesses, ye mought bet a pile on thet." 

"Why do you think I am a Yankee?" I asked, smiling. 

" I sees it all over ye. But, come, alight ; ye's welcome ter 
all I hes, an' ef ye kin spin a yarn, or tell a lie, ony bigger'n I 
kin, I'll 'low a Yankee ar smarter'n a Tcnnesseean — an' I nuver 
know'd one as war yit." 



BIBLE SMITH. 147 

Dismounting, I requested him to give ray horse some oats, 
remarking tliat I made free with him, because I expected to 
pay for what I had. 

" Pay !" he exclaimed ; " Nuver ye tork uv pay, Stranger, 
'tween two sich men as ve an' me is, or ye'll make me fight 
another dueh It's agin my principles, but I fit one oust, an' it 
mought be ye wouldn't loike ter hev me fit another." 

" Not with me, T assure you. I'd take free quarters with 
you for a month rather than fight a duel." 

" Yer a sensible man ; fur I shud, fur shore, sarve ye jest as 
I done Clingman — thet famous North Carolina chap. P'raps 
ye nuver yercd how I fit him ?" 

" No, I never did," I replied. 

" Wall, I'll tell ye on it. But yere, Jake" (to a stout, cheer- 
ful negro, who just then appeared at the corner of the house), 
" Yere, Jake, tuck th^ gen'leman's nag, rub him down, an' guv 
him some oats, an' mind, doan't ye guv no parson's measure 
wuth the oats." 

"Nuver you far, Massa. Jake'll gub it ter 'im cliock-heap- 
in' — loike you gub's eberyting, Massa," rejoined the negro, 
bounding nimbly into the saddle, and riding ofli" to the barn- 
yard. 

The farmer then turned and led the way into the house. At 
the door of the sitting-room we were met by his wife — a 
comely, dark-eyed woman of about thirty, neatly clad in a calico 
gown, with shoes and stockings (a rarity in that region) on her 
feet, and a spotless lace cap perching cosily on the back of her 
head. 

" Sally," said my host, as we entered the room, " yerc'r a 
stranger, so, tuck him in ; guv him fritters an' apple-jack fur 



148 DOWN m TENNESSEE. 

supper, fur lie'm a Yankee, an' thars no telliu' but ye mought 
save the kentry ef ye made him fall in love wuth ye." 

The good woman lauglu'd, gave me a cordial greeting, asked 
me to a seat by the tire, and went about preparing supper. As 
I seated myself with her husband, by the broad hearth-stone, I 
glanced around the apartment. It occupied one-lmlf of the 
building, and had a most cosey and comfortable appearance. 
On the floor was a tidy rag carpet, and the plastered walls were 
covered with a modest paper, and ornamented with a half 
dozen neatly-framed engravings. A gilded looking-glass, fes- 
tooned with sprigs of evergreen, hung between the front win- 
dows, and opposite to it stood a huge piece of mahogany, half 
a side-board, half a bureau, 'which in its day had graced some 
statelier mansion. A dozen rustic arm-chairs, covered with un- 
tanned deerskin, a small stand in the corner, piled high with 
such books as the Bible, The " Pilgrim's Progress," and " Dodd- 
ridge's Expositor," and a large pine table, on which my hostess 
was arranging the tea-things, completed the furniture of the 
room. A little boy of five and a little girl of seven were help- 
ing the good wife set the tea-table, and through an open door 
at the rear, I saw an older child, with her mother's dark-brown 
hair and her father's expressive features, busily frying the frit- 
ters over 4he kitchen fire. 

After asking me where I "come from," where I "mought be 
a moseyin' ter," and other similar questions, my host said : 

" So, ye nuver yered how I fit Clingman — thet big Whig 
chap over thar ter North Car"lina ?" 

"No," I replied, "I never did, but I would like to, for I 
know Clingman, and am a Whig myself." 

" Ye is ! Wall, I'd nuver a thort it ter luck at ye ; an' it do 



BIBLE SMITH. 149 

'pear sort o' qnar ter me thct oiiy vOiite man kin ^o afjin fi'ee 
schools, free speech, free thort, and free a'r fur all o' God's 
critters, but ye does, ef ye's a Whig, or I hain't read the dic- 
tionary !" 

" What dictionary have you read that in ?" I aslccd. 

"AVall, ter tell ye the truth. Stranger — an' thet, though it'r 
gittin' out o' fashion, ar what we orter do—/ nuver read i', in 
nary one : Sally, ye sees, do all the readiu' uv the fan blv. 
But, I allers reckoned them wus whig principles." 

"And what are democratic principles?" 

"Jest the contrary. Tliet's whot diinmocrat means, \7hig 
ar only another name fur big; an' it means big-bugf., fur 
all o' them goes thet way. But they karn't hev my vote, no- 
how. I goes fur the Decleratiou uv Independence — life, lib- 
erty, an' the piirsoot uv whot ye loikes. I'se got it — hangin' 
up thar agin the wall. The man as writ thet war some pun- 
kins." 

"Yes, he was, and it's a good thing to have in the house. 
But, tell me about your duel with Clingman." 

" Wall, ye sees, it war jest afore the last 'lection, when ye 
put in ole Zack fur President. The Whigs they had a "big 
barbacue down ter Richmond, an' Clingman an' a hull lot uv 
'em went inter speechifying ter kill. Wall, in the coorse uv 
Clingman's speech he said thet Cass, our canderdate, wus a 
nigger-trader down thar ter Newbern way, an' wus in jail far 
passin' counterfit money, an' ef we 'lected him, we'd hev ter 
bail him out ter 'nangei'ate him. Now, I couldn't stand tliet, no 
how, so I right up in nieetiu', an' telled Clingman he lied loike 
blazes. "Wall, be stopped short ter onst, an' axed me fur my 
redress." / 



150 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

"^ofdress," said his wife, pausing in her work, and looking 
pleasantly at me. 

*'Thet's so, Sally," replied the farmer. "I telled ye, Stran- 
ger, Sally hes all the larnin' uv the fambly. She's a quality 
'ooman — she is ! Wall, I guv Clingman my name, an' whar I 
hung out, an', shore 'nuff, jest arter dark, a feller rid up yere 
wuth a challunge, all writ out in Clingman's own hand — an' ye 
knows he's a right smart scholard, an' a durned clever feller ter 
boot, ef he ar a Whig. I couldn't read the thing — I hain't got 
no furder nur prent yit — so I guv it ter Sally. Sally she 
screeched out when she seed whot it war 'bout, but I telled bar 
ter stand up, an' die loike a man, an' so — she sot down, an' 
'cepted the challunge. Now, ye knows, the challunged 'un 
allers hes the chise o' weapons, so I said I'd hev swords, 
mounted." 

"Then you are familiar with sword practice?" I remarked. 

" Furmilye wuth it! I nuver seed more'n one sword, in 
all my borned days, an' thet war so durned rusty a ox-team 
couldn't dror it. It hung over dad's front door when I war a 
young 'un. Dad said he fit wuth it ter Cowpens, but I know'd 
he 'didn't, 'case he couldn't ha' been more'n two y'ar old at 
thet writin', an' he allers bed a awful way o' lyin'. 

" Wall, I said swords, mounted, at sun-up the next mornin', 
over agin my r'ar pinery. Now, I hes a dreftul smart ox-brute 
thet I'se a raised up fur my privat' ridin' — ye knows, we uses 
them critters jest as ye does bosses. The brute he doan't loike 
a spur, an' when ye puts one inter 'im, he'll pitch, head-fore- 
mose, inter the fust thing he comes ter, be it man or beast. 
Wall, in the <nornin' I tuck out the cow-horn (ye'd think Ga- 
briel %ar a soundin' the last trump when I blows it), cut a right 



BIBLE SMITH. 151 

smart stick fur a sword, put it inter a yaller bag tliet lucked 
loike a scabbard, got out tbe ox-brute, tied a red rag ter his 
liorns, put on him my wife's best kiverlct— Sally hed it agin we 
got morried ; it hes more colors nur Joseph's coat, but red an' 
yaller dominates. Wall, I put on the kiverlet fur a saddle, an' 
moseyed oflf ter the dueling ground. 

" Clingman, he war thar, wuth two seconds, a doctor, an' a hull 
'pothecary store uv cuttin' instruments, all waitin' an' ready ter 
make mince-meat uv my carcass. Soon as he seed how I war 
'coutered, he up an' 'jected ter fightin', but I counted out the 
terms uv the duel — swords, mounted — an' I tolled him ef he 
didn't stand, an' fight loike a man, I'd post him all over the 
State o' North Car'lina fur a coward. Wall, finarly he 'eluded 
ter do it. So, we tuck our stands, the seconds they guv the 
word, Clingman he put spurs inter his boss, an' I put spurs 
inter mine, an'. Stranger, ye'd better b'lieve when my ox mo- 
seyed down outer his mar, wuth horn a blowin', an' kiverlet a 
flyin', the mar she piked out quicker'n a whirlygust chasin' a 
streak o' lightnin', an' she nuver belt up till she got clean inter 
North Car'lina. I'se allers telled Sally sense thet thet kiverlet 
ar the flag I means ter live under, ter sleep under, an' ter die 
under." * 

When I had somewhat recovered from the immoderate fit of 
laughter which expressed my appreciation of the farmer's story, 
his comely wife said to me : 

" Fotch up yer cheer, Stranger. We hain't nothin' 'cept 
common doin's, but we's 'nufF o' them." 

And there was "'nuflf o' them." The table was loaded 

* Subsequent inquiry satisfied me tliat Bible's account of this singu- 
lar duel was substantially true. 



152 DOWN IN TENNESSEE, 

down with bacon, venison, wild fowl, hominy, corn-pone, frit- 
ters, tea, cider, and apple-jaclc, all heaped upon it in promiscu- 
ous confusion. 1 had ridden far, and eaten nothing since the 
morning, but I might have relished the viands liad my appetite 
been much daintier than it was. 

A desultory conversation followed till the close of the meal. 
When it was over, again seating myself with the farmer before 
the blazing light-wood fire, while his wife and elder daughter 
went about clearing away the tea-things, I said to him : 

" You guessed rightly, ray.friend. I am a Yankee, and T have 
the Yankee way of r.sking questions. Now, I want to ask you 
how you live, what you raise, how many negroes you have — all 
about yourself, for I've already fallen in love with you and — 
your wife." 

" Fall'n in love wuth me-! ha! ha!" echoed the farmer. 
"Stranger, /nuver fell in love wuth nary man 'cept Sally, but 
I fell inter it so deep wuth she thet I'se willin' all creation shud 
love bar jest loike I does — an' they wud, ef they only know'd 
har so wall as me." 

"I have no doubt they would. Does she do all her own 
housework ?" 

"Uvery thing — she an' the little gal. She woan't hev no 
lazy nigger wimmin round. They make more wuck nur they 
does." 

" Do yer wife wuck, Stranger ?" asked the lady : " They 
say wimmin all wucks ter the North." 

" Nearly all do — except my wife. She don't, because I have 
none. But I intend to have one. I shall probably wait till 
your husband breaks his neck, and then pop the question to 
you." 



BIBLE SMITH. 153 

" Wall, I reckon I'd hev ye, far I'se sort o' tuck ter ye. 
'Pears loike ye Northern gentlemen hain't stuck up, an' doan't 
'count tharselfs no better nur wuckin' folk, like the 'ristocracts 
does round yere." 

"The heart, not the wealth or the intellect. Madam, makes 
the true aristocracy," I replied, gravely. 

"Thet's whot our parson sez; an' in heaven, he sez, them as 
gits the highest hes hearts jest loike little childeriii' — thet loves 
nvery thing, an' uvery body, an' hain't no larnin' at all. Ef 
thet's so, Bible'll be one on the biggest on 'em, fnr he's got 
nigh ter no larnin' — he kin only jest make out ter spell — an' his 
heart ar big 'nufFter holt all o' creation." 

"Doan't ye say thet, Sally," said the farmer, looking at his 
Avife with a tender light in his eyes, and a beautiful smile on 
liis rough features : " The Lord moughtn't be uv yer 'pinion," 

" Yas, He ar, fur He knows ye jest loike I does." 

The farmer made no reply, and a short silence followed. I 
broke it by saying : 

" Come, Bible, answer my questions — tell me all about your- 
self." 

" Thet hain't my name. Stranger, though it'r whot T goes by. 
Ye sees, my name ar Smith, an' dad chrisund me Jehosha- 
phat* — ter 'stinguish me frum the t'other Smiths, but, somehow, 
it got shortened ter Bible, an' it'r been Bible unter this day. 
AVall, I wuck'd 'long uv dad till I war twenty-one, fur the ole 
'un he said he'd a fotched me up when 1 war a young 'un, an' 
he war bound ter git liis pay out o' me agin I war grow'd, 
an' — he done it. 

* His name according to the army rolls, is William J. Smith. 



154 DOWN IN TENNESSEE, 

"Wall, the day I war uv age, dad axed me out ter the barn, 
an' totein' out a mule-brute as hed been in the fambly uver sense 
Adam -warn't no higher'n lettle Sally, he sez ter me, sez he : 
'Thar, Bible, thar's my last wull an' testamunt — tuck it, an' 
gwo an' seek yer fortun'.' I hadn't nary chise, so, I tuck the 
mule-brute an' moseyed out ter seek my fortun'. I squatted 
down right squar outer this dead'nin', hired my nig Jake (I 
owns him now), an' me, an' Jake, an' the mule-brute went ter 
wuck loike blazes — all but the mule-brute — he war too tarnal 
lazy ter wuck; he war so lazy I hed ter git my ox ter holp him 
dror his last breath. Wall, Jake an' me added acre ter acre, 
and mule-brute ter mule-brute, as the Scriptur sez, till finarly I 
got ter be right wall forehanded. Then, one day, I sez ter 
Jake : ' Jake,' sez I, ' ye's got a wife, an' ye knows whot dur- 
mestic furlicity is — ter be shore ye hes ter keep it seven mile 
away, an' it b'longs ter a durned 'ristocrat, but whot's thet 
when I guvs ye Saturday arternoons an' Sundays, all ter yer- 
self — now, / hain't nary furlicity at all : whot shill- 1 do.' 

" * Git a wife, Ms.ssa,' sez Jake ; ' git a wife, Massa. But 
dar's mighty fine fish in de sea, Massa, so doan't ye kotch no 
dolphins whot shows dar colors in de sun but neber comes ter 
de sufFace when it rains. Saddle de mar, Massa, an' gwo out on a 
'splorin' expedition ; Jake'll luck arter de fixiu's while you'm 
away.' Now, thet nig ar allers right — he's got a head longer'n 
the moral law — so, I saddled the mar, an' sallied out arter 
Sally. 

" I bed ter scour nigh 'bout all o' creation, an' it tuck me four 
hull months ter do it, but — I found bar. Soon as I sot eyes 
on bar I know'd it war she, an' I telled bar so, but she say : 
'Ye must ax Par.' (Sally hes book-breedin', ye sees, so she 



BIBLE SMITH. 155 

eez par instead o' dad, which ar' the nat'nil way.) Wall, I 
axed ' par' — he's one on yer quality folk, been ter Congress, 
an' only missed bein' Guv'ner by — not gittin' the nomurnation. 
I axed him, an' he shuck his head, but I gnv him jest a week 
ter think on it, an' moseyed out ter git ready agin the weddin'. 
I know'd he'd come round, an' he done it. So I scz ter Sally : 
' Sally,' sez I : ' we'll be morried ter-morrer.' 

" ' Ter-morrer !' screeched Sally, holtin' up har hands, an' 
opeuin' har eyes; 'Why I hain't a ready. I hain't no cloes !' 

" ' Cloes !' sez I ; ' nuver mind yer cloes — I doan't morry ye 
fur them.' 

" So Sally she consented, an' I piked out fur a parson. 
Now, thar warn't none nigher'n over a branch, an' it so hap- 
piird it rained loike blazes thet night, an' toted off all the 
bridges, so when the parson an' me got down ter the run jest 
arter noon the next day — we wus ter a been morried at levin' — 
thar warn't no way o' crossin', but — thar war Sally, on the t'other 
side uv the run, in har sun-bunnet an' a big umbrell', onpa- 
tiently waitin' fur us. Thar warn't no other how, so I sez ter 
the parson: 'Parson,' sez I :• 'say over the Prayer-Book — 
Sally's got the hull uv it by heart agin this time — we'll be mor- 
ried ter oust, right yere.' So, the parson he said over the 
Prayer-Book, Sally she made the 'sponses — all 'bout the 'beyin' 
an' so on — an' we's been man an' wife uver sense ; an' Stranger, 
I doan't koer whar the t'other 'ooman ar', thar hain't nary one 
livin' quite up ter Sally." 

"An' does ye b'lieve thet story. Stranger?" asked Sally, who, 
having finished clearing away the tea-things, had, with the older 
daughter, and the younger children, taken a seat near me iu the 
chimney-corner. 



156 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" I can't say that I do. Not altogether," I replied. 

" I'm glad on it, far we wus morried in a house, loikc Chris- 
tun people — we wus," 

" Is Jake your only slave ?" I asked the farmer after a while. 

" Yas, he'r my only 'an, bat he's as good as ony two ye uver 
know'd on. Ye sees, I raises nigh on ter no craps 'cept male- 
brutes an' .horned critters, an' them, ye knows, browse in the 
woods, an' doan't make much wuck." 

If this chapter were not already too long I would tell the 
reader more of this farmer's family; how every thing about 
the house and out-buildings was the model of neatness ; how 
the comely housewife strove, with grace and cheerfulness, to do 
honor to a stranger guest; how tidily she kept her handsome 
brood, all clad in homespun of her own weaving, and her own 
making ; how the younger children climbed their father's knee, 
pulled his beard, and laughed at his stories, as if they had never 
beard them before j how nimbly the elder daughter sprang to do 
her mother's bidding, how she fetched the apples from the loft, 
and the apY>\e-jack from the pantry, and, between times, helped 
to luU'the sleepy little ones to sleep, or to keep them, wakeful, 
out of mischief; how when we parted for the night, Sally read 
a chapter from the big Bible, and then, all kneeling down, made 
such a prayer as the Good All Father loves to hear; how 
when I bade them "good-bye" in the morning, all had to kiss 
me, from the mother to the youngest ; and how Bible, giv- 
ing me a parting grasp of the hand, said as I mounted to ride 
away 1 ■ 

"Come out an' settle yere, Stranger; we'll send ye ter Con- 
gress — the m^n as hes cheek enufF ter kiss a man's wife afore 
his vnry face, kin git ony office in this part o' the kentry !" 



BIBLE SMITH. 



157 



Of all this and more, I would like to tell, bnt have I not 
already said enough to show that true worth and real manliness 
exist among the " poor whites" of the South? Though igno- 
rant and illiterate, uncouth of speech, and ungainly of manner, 
have not those who so well observe the obligations of husband 
and fother, mother and wife and daughter, learned some of the 
hisrher duties of life ? 



f7 



158 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



BIBLE S STORY. 



Seated after dinner on the piazza of the hospitable Southern 
lady, Bible told me his story. 

He had been stripped of all his property, his wife and chil- 
dren had been driven from their home, his house had been 
burned to the ground, and he himself hunted through the 
woods like a wild beast, because he had remained true to what 
he called democratic principles — " free schools, free speech, free 
thought and free a'r fur all o' God's critters." 

The world wenl well with him till the breaking out of the 
Rebellion. That^event found him the owner of fifteen likely 
negroes, a tine plantation of nine hundred and thirty acres, and a 
comfortable framed dwelling and out-buildings. His elder daugh- 
ter had married a young farmer of the district, and his younger — 
little Sally, whom I remembered as a rosy-cheeked, meek-eyed 
wee thing of only seven years — had grown up a woman. 

In the spring of 1861, when there were no Union troops 
south of the Ohio, and the secession fever was raging furiously 
all over his county, he organized one hundred and six of his 
neighbors into a company of Home Guards, and was elected 
their captain. They were pledged to resist all attacks on 
the person or property of any of their number, and met fre- 
quently in the woods in the vicinity of their homes. This or- 
ganization secured Bible, safety and free expression of opinion 



bible's stoky. 159 

till long after Tennessee went out of the Union. In fact, he 
felt so secure that, in 1862 — a year after the State seceded — 
under the protection of his band of Home Guards, he inaugu- 
rated and carried through a celebration of the fourth of July at 
Richmond, Tennessee, under the very guns of a rebel regiment 
then forming in the town. 

An act of so much temerity naturally attracted the attention 
of the Confederate authorities, and not long afterwards he was 
roused from his bed one morning before day-break, by three 
hundred armed men, who told him that he was a pris- 
oner, and that all his property was confiscated to the Govern^ 
ment. They at once enforced the " confiscation act ;" " and 
this," he said, taking from his wallet a piece of soiled paper, 
" ar' whot I hed ter 'tribute ter the dingnation consarn. It'r 
Sally's own handwritc, an' I knows ye loikes har, so, ye kin hcv 
it, fur it'll nuver be uv no manner uv account ter me." 

The schedule is now before me, and I copy it verbatim : " 14 
men and wimmin" (Jake eluded the soldiers and escaped to the 
woods), "1600 barrils corn, 130 sheeps, 700 bushls wheat, 440 
barley, 100 rye, 27 mules, 5 cow-brutes, 105 head hogs, 17 
horses and mars, and all they cud tote beside." 

"Wall, they tied mc, hand an' fut," he continued; "an' 
toted me off" ter the Military Commission sittin' ter Chattanooga. 
I know'd whot thet meant — a short prayer, a long rope, an' a 
break-down danced on the top o' nothin'. Better men nur me 
hed gone thet way ter the Kingdom — sevin on 'em wuthin a 
month — but I detarmined I wouldn't go ef I could holp it; not 
thet I 'jected ter the journey, only ter goiu' afore uv Sally. 
Ye sees, I hedn't been nigh so good a man as I'd orter be, an' I 
reckoned Sally — who, ye knows, ar.the best 'ooman thet uver 



160 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

lived — I reckoned she, ef she got thar a leetle afore o' me, could 
sort o' put in a good word wnth the Lord, an' git Him ter shot 
His eyes ter a heap o' my doin's ; an"* sides, I should, I know'd, 
feel a mighty strange loikc up tliar without har. Wall, I de- 
tarniined not ter go, sO thet night, as we war camped out on the 
gronnd, I slid the coil, stole a nag, an' moseyed oflf. How- 
sumuver, I hedn't got more'n a hun'red rods, 'fore the durned 
Secesh yered me, an' the bullets fell round me thickcr'n tar in 
January. They hit the boss, winged me a trifle, an' in less nur 
ten minnits, bed me tighter'n uver. They swore a streak uv 
blue brimstun', an' said they'd string mc up ter oust, but I telled ■ 
'em they wouldn't, 'case I know'd I war a gwlne ter live ter 
holp do thet ar' same, turn fur Jeff. Davis. Wall, I s'pose my 
impudence bed suthin' ter do wuth it, fur they didn't hang me — 

ye monght know thet, Mr. , fur, ye sees, I hes a 

good neck fur stretchin' yit." 

" Wall we got ter Chattanooga jest arter noon. The Com- 
mission they bed too many on hand thet day ter 'tend ter my 
case, an' the jail wus chock-heapin', so they put me inter a tent 
under guard uv a bull Georgy regiment. Things luck'd 
'mazin' squalh^ an' much as I detarmined ter be a man, my 
heart went clean down inter my boots wbenuver I thort uv 
Sally. I nuver felt so, afore or sence, fur then I hedn't got 
used ter luckin' at the gallus uvery day. 

" Wall, / didn't Icnow whot ter do, but thinkin' the Lord did, 
I kneeled down an' prayed right smart. I telled Him I hedn't 
no face ter meet Him afore I'd a done suthin' fur the keutry, an' 
thet Sally's heart would be clean broke cf I went afore bar, 
but, howsumuver, I said. He know'd best, an' ef it war .His will, 
I bed jest nothin' ter say agin it. Thet's all I said, but I said 



bible's story. 161 

it over an' over, a heap o' times, an it war right dark when I 
got off uv my knees. The Lord yered me, thet's sartin, 'case 
I hedn't mcrc'n got up fore a dirty grey-back, druidvcr'n a 
member uv Congress, staggered inter the tent. I reckon he 
tliort he war ter home, fur he drapped down outer the ground 
an' went ter sleep, vvuthout so much as axin' ef I wus willin'. 

" Then it come inter my head, all ter oust, whot ter do. Ye 
sees, the critters bed tied me hand an' fiit, an' teddered me 
wuth a coil ter one o' the tent-stakes, so I couldn't move only 
jest so fur; but the Lord lie made the drunken feller lop down 
jest inside uv reachin'. Wall, when I war shore he war dead 
asleep, I roWed over thar, drawed out the Bowie-knife in his 
belt wuth my teeth, an' sawed off ruy wristlets in no time. Ye 
kin reckon it didn't take long ter undo the 'tother coils, an' 
ter 'propriate his weapons, tie 'im hand an' fut loike I war, 
strip off his coat, put mine outer 'im, swap hats, an' pull the 
one I guv him down onter his eyes loike as ef he nuvcr wanted 
ter see the sun agin. When I'd a done thet, I stopped ter 
breathe, an' luckin' up I seed a light a comin'. I 'spicioned 
it war ter 'xamine arter me, so I slunk down inter a cor- 
ner o' the tent, jest aside the door. They wus a leftenant, an' 
three privits, makin' the rounds, an' the light showed me nigh 
onter a army uv sentinels all about thar. Thet warn't no way 
encouragin', but sez I ter myself: 'Bible,' sez I, 'be cool an' 
outdacious, an' ye'll git out o' this, yit ;' so, when the leften- 
ant luck'd in, an' sayin' : 'All right,' put out agin, I riz up, 
an' jined the felkrs as wus a follerin' on him. I kept in the shud- 
der, an' they, s'posin' I war one on 'em, tuck no kind uv notice 
uv me. We'd luck'd arter three or four pore prisoners loike I 
war, when I thort I'd better be a moseyin', so I drapped ahind 



162 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

an' arter a while dodged out beyont the second line o' pickets. 
I'd got nigh onter a patch uv woods half a mile oflf, when all 
ter onst a feller sprung up frum a clump uv bushes, j'elled, 
' Halt,' an' pinted his musket stret at me. I niought hev 
eended 'im, but I reckoned others wus nigh, an' sides, I nuver 
takes humiu life ef I kin help it ; so I sez ter 'im : ' Why, Lord 
bless me, cumrad', T didn't seed ye.' 'I s'pose ye didn't. 
Whot is ye doin' yere ?' sez he. ' Only pursuin' a jug o' blue 
ruin I'se out thar hid under a log,' sez I. ' Ye knows it'r agin 
rule ter tote it inside, but a feller must licker.' 'Wall, licker 
up ter-morrer,' sez he. ' We's got 'ticklar orders ter let no 'uu 
out ter-night.' ' Blast the orders,' sez I. ' Ye'd loike a swig 
yerself.' ' Wall, I would,-' sez he. ' WuU ye go snacks ?' 
' Yas,' sez I ; ' an' guv ye chock-heapin' measure, fur I must hev 
some o' thet afore mornin'.' 

" Thet brung him, an' I piked off for the ruin. (It warn't 
thar, ye knows — I nuver totch the dingnation stuff.) Ye'd bet- 
ter b'lieve the grass didn't grow under my feet when onst I got 
inter the woods. I plumbed my coorse by the stars, an' made 
ten right smart miles in no time. Then it come inter my head 
thet I'd a forgot all about the Lord, so I kneeled down rigbt 
thar, an' thanked Him. I telled Him I seed His hand jest so 
plain as ef it war day-time, an' thet, as shore as my name war 
Bible, I'd foUer His lead in futur' — an' I'se tried ter, uver 
sense. 

" I'd got ter be right wall tuckered out by thet time — the 
'citement, ye«see, hed holt me up, but I'd no sooner gone ter 
pray in' 'fore my knees guv out all ter onst — so, I put fur a 
piece uv timber, lay down under a tree, an' went ter sleep. 1 
must hev slept mighty sound, fur, long 'bout mornin', some'un 



bible's story. 163 

bed ter shuck me awful hard, an' turn me clar over, 'fore it woked 
me. I got up. 'Twar nigh so light as day, though 'twarn't 
sun-up. Yit I luck'd all round, an' didn't see a soul ! Now, 
whot d'ye s'pose it war thet woked me ?" 

" Your own imagination, I reckon. You were dreaming, and 
in your dream you thought some one shook you," I replied, 

" No ; 'twarn't thet. I nuver dreams. It war the Lord ! 
An' He done it 'case I'd prayed ter 'ira. I'se nuver gone ter 
sleep, or woke up, sense, wuthout prayin' ter Him, an' though 
I'se been in a heap uv wuss fixes nur thet, lie's got me out uv 
all on 'em, jest 'case I does pray ter Him." 

I did not dispute him. Who that reads the New Testament 
as Bible reads it — like a little child — can dispute him. In 
a moment he went on with his story. 

" Wall, I luck'd all round, an' seed nuthin', but I yered — not a 
mile oft' — the hounds a bayin' away loike a young thundergust. 
They wus arter me, an' thet wus the why the Good Lord 
woked me. I luck'd at the 'volver I'd stole from the sodger, 
seed it war all right, an' then dumb a tree. 'Bout so quick as 
it takes ter tell it, the hounds — two 'mazin' fine critters, wuth a 
hun'red an' fifty apiece— wus on me. I run my eye 'long the 
pistol-barr'l, an' let drive. It tuck jest two shots ter kill 'em. 
I know'd the Secesh wus a foUerin' the dogs, so, ye'd better 
*b'lieve I made purty tall racin' time till I got ter the eend uv 
the timber. 

" Jest at night I run agin some darkies, who guv me suthin 
ter eat, an' nothin' more happin'd 'fore the next night, when I 
come in sight o' home. I got ter the edge uv the woods, on the 
hill jest ahind uv my barn, 'bout a hour by suu ; but I daru't 
go down, fur, ye knows, the house stood in a clarin', an' some 



164 DOWIJ IN TENNESSEE. 

uv the varmnnts moufrht be a watchin' fur me. I lay thar till 
it war thick dark, an' then I crept tcr the r'ar door. I listened; 
an' whot d'ye 'spose I yered ? Sally a prayin' — an' prayin' far 
me, so 'arnest an' so tender loike, thet I sot down on the door- 
step, an' cried loike a child — I did." 

Here the rough, strong man bent down his head and wept 
again. The moisture tilled my own eyes as he continued : 

" She tailed the Lord how much I war ter hav; how she'd a 
loved me uver sense she'd a fust seed me; how 'fore bar father, 
or mother, or even the chilleu, she loved me ; how she'd tried 
ter make me love Him ; how she know'd thet, way down in 
my heart, I did love Him, though I didn't say so, 'case men 
doan't speak out 'bout sech things loike wimmin does. An' she 
telled Him how she bed tried tcr do His will ; tried ter be one 
on His raal chillcn ; an' she telled Him He bed promised not 
ter lay (?nter His chillen no more'n they could b'ar, an' she 
couldn't b'ar ter hev me hung up as ef I war a traitor : thet 
she could part wuth me if it war best ; thet she could see me 
die, an' not weep a tear, cf T could only die loike a man, wuth 
a musket in ray hand, a doin' suthin' for my kentry. Then she 
prayed Him tcr send me back ter bar fur jest one day, so she 
mought ax me once more ter love Him — an' she know'd I 
would love Him ef she axed me agin — an' she said ef He'd 
only do thet, she'd— much as she loved me — she'd send me 
aw; ay, an' guv me all up ter Him an' the kentry fur uver ! 

"I couldn't stand no more, so, I opened the door, drapped 
onter my knees, tuck bar inter my arms, lay my bead on bar 
shoulder, an' sobbed out : ' The Lord bes ycred ye, Sally ! I 
wuU love Him ! I wull be worthy of sech love as ye's guv'n me, 
Sally !' " 



bible's story. 165 

He paused for a moment, and covered his fEXce with liia 
hands. When he spoke again there was a softness and tender- 
ness in his tone that I never heard in the voice of but one other 
man. 

" Sense thet minnit this yerth hes been another yerth ter me; 
an' thongli Fse lost uverythin', though I hes no home, though 
night arter night I sleeps out in the cold an' the wet, a scoutin', 
though my wife an' chillcn is scattered, though nigli uvery day 
I'se in danger uv the gallus, though Fse been roped ter a tree 
tor die loike a dog, though a thousand bullets hes yelled death 
in my yeres, though I'se seed my only boy shot down afore my 
vury eyes, an' I not able ter speak ter him, ter guv him a mossel 
uv comfort, or ter yere liis last word, I'se lied suthin allers yere 
(laying his hand on his heart) thet hes holt me up, an' made 
me luck death in the face as ef I loved it. An ef ye hain't got 

thet, Mr. ■ , no matter whot else ye's got, no matter whot 

money, or larnin', or friends, ye's pore — porer nur I ar !" 

I made no reply, and after a short silence he resumed his 
story. 

" Jake — tliet war my boy — ye remember him, ye hed him on 
yer knee — he war eighteen an' a man grow'd then : wall, Jake 
an' me made up our minds ter pike fur the Union lines ter oust. 
Sally war all night a cookin' fur us, an' we a gittin' the arms 
an' fixiu's a ready — we hed lots o' them b'longin' ter the Guards, 
hid away in a panel uv the wall — an' the next day, meanin' ter 
start jest arter sun-set, we laid down fur some sleepin'. Nigh 
enter dark, Black Jake, who war a watchin', come rushin' inter 
the house, sayin' the Seccsh wus a comin. Thar wus only 
twenty on 'em, he said, an' one wus drunk an' didn't count fur 
nuthin', so, we detarmined ter meet 'em. We tuck our stands 



166 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

nigh the door, each on us men — Black Jake, the boy, an' me — 
wuth a Derringer in his pocket, two 'volvers in his belt, an' a 
Bowie-knife in the breast uv his waiscoat, an' the wimmin wuth 
a 'volver in each hand, an' waited fur 'em. Half a dozen on 
'em went round ter the r'ar, an' the rest come at the front door, 
yellin' out : 

" ' We doan't want ter 'sturb ye, Miss Smith (they's chiv- 
urly, ye knows), but we reckons yer husban' ar yere, an' we 
must sarch the house. We hes orders ter take him.' 

" I opened the door stret off, an' steppin' down onter the 
piazzer — Black Jake an' the boy ter my back, an' the wimmin' 
ter the winder — I sez ter 'em : 

" ' Wall, I'se yere. Take me ef ye kin !' 

" They wus fourteen on 'em tTiar, uvery man wuth a musket, 
but they darn't lift a leg! They wus cowards. It'r nathin' 

but a good canse, Mr. , thet guvs a man courage — makes 

him lock death in the face as ef he loved it. 

" Wall, they begun ter parley. ' We doan't want ter shed no 
blood,' said the leftenant : ' but we's orders ter take ye. Mister 
Smith, an' ye'd better go wuth us, peaceable loike.' 

" ' I shan't go wuth ye peaceable loike, nur no other how,' 
sez I ; 'fur ye's a pack o' howlin' thieves an' traitors as no de- 
cent man 'ud be seed in company uv. Ye disgraces the green 
yerth ye walks on, an' ef ye doan't git off uv my sheer uv it, in 
less nur no time, I'll send ye — though it'r agin my principles 
ter take humin life — whar ye'll git yer desarts, sartin.' 

" Then the leftenant he begun ter parley agin, but I pinted 
my 'volver at him, an' tolled him he'd better be a moseyin' sud- 
den. Sayin' he'd 'port ter his cunnel, he done it. 

" We know'd a hun'red on 'em 'ud be thar in no time, so, 



bible's story. 167 

soon as they wus out o' sight, the boy an' mo, leaviu' Black 
Jake ter hick avter the wimmin, struck a stret line fur the timber. 
We hedn't got more'n four mile — ter the top uv the tall sum- 
mit ter the r'ar uv Richmond — afore, luckin' back, we seed my 
house an' barns all a blazin' ! The Heaven-defyin' villuns bed 
come back — shot Jake down in ci>ld blood, druv my wife an' 
darter out o' doors, an' burnt all I bed ter the ground ! AVe 
seed the fire, but not knowin' whot else bed happin'd, an' not 
bein' able ter do nothin', we piked on inter the woods. 

" We traviled all thet night through the timber, an' jest at 
sun-down uv the next day, come ter a clarin'. We wus mighty 
tired, but 'twouldn't do ter sleep thar, fur the trees wu^ nigh a 
rod asunder; so we luck'd round, an' on t'other side uv the 
road, not half a mile off, seed 'bout a acre uv laurel bush — 
ye knows whot them is, some on 'em so thick a dog karn't git 
through 'em. Jake war tireder nur I war, an' he said ter me, 
' Dad,' sez he : ' let us git under kiver ter oust. I feels loiko 
I couldn't stand up no longer.' It wus fool-hardy loike, fur the 
sun warn't clar down, but I couldn't b'ar ter see the boy so, 
an', agin my judgment, we went down the road ter the laurels. 
We lay thar till mornin', an' slep' so sound thet I reckon ef 
forty yerthquakcs bed shuck the yerth, they wouldn't hev 
woked us. Soon as sun-up, Jake riz, an' went ter the edge uv 
the thicket ter rekonnoitter. He hedn't stood thar five min- 
nits — right in plain sight, an' not more'n two bun' red rods frum 
me — afore I yered a shot, an' seed the pore boy throw up his 
arms, an' fall ter the ground. In less nur no time fifty Seccsh 
wus on him. I war springin' up ter go ter him, when suthin' 
tuck me by the shoulder, belt me back, an' said ter me : ' Ye 
karn't do nothin' fur him. Leave 'im ter the Lord. Save yer- 



168 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

self fur the keiitry.' It went agin natur', but it 'peared tlie 
Lord's voice, so I crouched down agin 'mong the bushes. I 
nuver know'd whot it war thet saved me till nigh a y'ar arter- 
wuds. Then I tuck thet leftenant pris'ner, — I could hev shot 
hi II, but I guv him his life ter repent in, an' he done it: he's 
a decent man now, b'lono-in' ter Gunnel Johnson's rigiment. 
Wall, I tuck him, an' he said ter me : " I wus aside uv thet pore 
boy when he war dyin'. He turned his eyes enter me jest as 
he war goin', an' he said : ' Ye karn't kotch him. He's out 
o' the bush ! Ha! ha!' He said thet, and died. Ter save me, 
died wuth a lie on his lips ! Does ye b'lieve the Lord laid 
thet agin him, Mr. ?" 

" No, no ! I am sure not. It was a noble action." 

" It 'pears so ter me, b.ut it war loike the boy. He war 
allers furgettin' himself, an' tliinkin' uv other folk. He war all — 
all the pride uv my life, — him an' Sally, — but it pleased the Lord 
ter tuck him afore me — but only fur a time — only fur a time — 
'fore long I shill hev him agin — agin — up thar — up thar !" 

His emotion choked his utterance for a while. When he 
resumed, he said : 

" At the eend uv a fortni't, trav'lin' by night an' sleepin' by 
day, an' livin' on the darkies when ray fixiu's guv out, I got 
inter the Union lines 'bove Nashville." 

" And what became of your wife and daughter ?" I asked. 

"Lettle Sally went ter har sister. My wife walked eighty 
mile ter har father's. He's one on yer quality folk, an' a 
durned old Secesh, but he's got hurain natur' in him, an' Sally's 
safe thar. I'se seed har twice ter his house. The old 'uq 
he's know'd on't, but he hain't nuver said a word." 



bible's scouting adventures. 169 



CHAPTER XIV. 
bible's scouting adventures. 

Bible's intimate knowledge of the country, and acquaintance 
with the loyal men of the district, enabled him to perform 
more actual service to the Union cause than a regiment of men 
in the ranks. Hiding in the woods, or secreting himself in the 
houses of his friends by day, he would sally forth by night, and, 
penetrating far into the rebel lines, frequently gather informa- 
tion of great importance to our array. Often days without 
food, sleeping out in the cold and the rain, hunted down with 
blood-hounds, betrayed by pretended friends, waylaid by whole 
regiments, the mark for a thousand rifles, and with the gallows 
ever before him, he went on in his perilous worlv with a single- 
hearted devotion to his country, and an earnest, child-like 
re'iance on God, that would do honor to the best names in 
history. 

His scouting adventures would fill a volume, and read more 
like a romance of the middle ages than a matter-of-fact history 
of the present time. On one occasion, when about five miles 
outside of our lines, he came, late at night, upon a party <>f 
rebel officers, making merry at the house of a wealthy seces- 
sionist. Riding coolly up to the mounted orderly on guard 
befor>i the door-way, he pinioned his arms, thrust a handker- 
chief into his mouth, and led him quietly out of hearing. 
Then bidding him dismount, and tying him to a tree, he re- 
8 



170 DOWN IN TENNESSKE. 

moved the impromptu gag, and leveling a revolver at his head, 
said to him : 

" Now, tell me, ye rebel villun, whot whiskey-kags was ye a 
watchin' thar ? Speak truth, or I'll guv ye free pas&age ter a 
hot kentry." 

"Nine ossifers," said the trembling rebel; "a cunnel, two 
majors, a sargeon, two cap'ns, an' the lest leftenants.'' 

" Whar's thar weapons ?" 

"Thar swords is in the h;ill-vvay. None on 'em hain't pistols 
'cept the sargeon — he raought hev a Volver." 

" Whot nigs is they round ?" 

" Nary one, I reckon, more'n a old man thar (pointing to 
the kitchen-building) an' the gals in the house." 

" Wall, I'll let ye go fur this, ef yc's tolled the truth, Ef ye 
hain't, ye'd better be a say in' yer prayers ter oust, fur the Lord 
■won't yere ye on the t'other side uv Jurdan." 

Fastening his horse in "the timber," and creeping up 
to the house, he then reconnoitered the kitchen premises. 
The old man — a stout, stalwart negro of about fifty — sat dozing 
in the corner, and his wife, a young mulatto woman, was cook- 
ing wild fowl over the fire. Opening the door, and placing his 
finger on his lips to enjoin silence, Bible beckoned to the 
woman. She came to him, and, looking her full in the eye for 
a moment, he said to her : " I kin trust ye. Wud ye an' yer 
old 'un loike ter git out o' the claws uv these durned secesh ?" 

" Yas, yas, Massa," she replied, " we wud. \Ve's Union ! 
We'd loike ter git 'way, Massa !" 

Then awakening her husband, Bible said to him : " Uncle, 
wud ye risk yer life fur yer freedom ?" 

" Ef dar's a chance, Massa, a right smart chance. Dis 



bible's scouting adventures. ITl 

dark'y tinks a heap ob bis life, be does, Massa. It 'm 'bout 
all bem got." 

" Yas, yas, I know ; but ye sbill bev freedom. I'll see ye ter 
tbe Free States, ef ye' 11 bolp tuck them secesii ossifers." 

"IIolp tuck dera, Massa! Why, dar's a dozen on 'em; 
dey'd chaw ye up in no time," exclaimed the astonished African. 

" No, tbar hain't a dozen on 'em ; thar's only nine ; but — ye's 
a coward," replied the scout. 

" No, I hain't no coward, Massa ; but I loikes a chance, 
Massa, a right smart chance." 

Bible soon convinced the negro that he would have a 
" right smart chance," and he consented to make the hazardous 
strike for his freedom. Entering the house, he returned in a 
few moments to tbe scout, confirming tbe sentinel's report: the 
weapons were reoosing quietly in tbe ball, near tbe doorway, 
and tbe officers, very much the worse for liquor, were carousing 
with bis master in the dining-room. 

Selecting three of the best liorses from tbe stables, Bible di- 
rected the yellow woman to lead them into the road, and to 
bring his ovvn from where it was fastened in tbe woods. Then, 
with his sooty ally, tbe scout entered the mansion. Removing 
the arms from the hall, he walked buklly into the dining-room. 
" Gentlemen," he said, pointing bis pistols — one in each band — 
at the rebel officers, " ye is my pris'ners. Surrender yer shoot- 
in' irons, or ye's dade men." 

" AVho are you?" exclaimed one of them, as they all sprang 
to their feet. 

" Gunnel Smitb, uv tbe Fust Tennessee Nigger Regiment — 
one old black man an' a yaller 'ooman," coolly replied tbe 
scout. 



172 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

"Go to ," sljoutcd the surgeon, quicldy drawing his re- 
volver, and discharging it directly at Bible's face. The ball 
grazed liis head, cut off a lock of hair just above his ear, 
and lodged in the wall at his back. The report was still sound- 
ing tlirougla the apartment, when the surgeon uttered a wild 
cry, sprang a few feet into the air, and fell lifeless to the floor ! 
The negro had shot him. 

" Come, gentlemen, none o' thet," said Bible, as coolly as if 
nothing had happened, " guv me the shootin' iron, an' surren- 
der, or we'll sot the rest on ye ter his wuck — rakin' coals fur 
the devil's funnace, — in less nur a minnit." 

Without more hesitation the rebel colonel handed the scout 
the fallen man's pistol, and then all, followed by the scout 
and the negro, marched quietly out of the front door. The 
mulatto woman, holding the horses, was standing in the high- 
way. 

" Hitch the nags, my purty gal," said the scout, " an' git a 
coil. An' ye, gentlemen, sot down, an' say nothin' — 'cept it 
mought be yer prayers; but them, I reckon, ye hain't larned 
yit." 

The ncgress soon returned with the rope, and while Bible 
and her husband covered them with their revolvers, she tied the 
arms of the prostrate cliivalry. When this was done, the scout 
affixed a long rope to the waist of the officer on either flank of 
the column, and, taking one in his own hand, and giving the 
other to the negro, cried out : 

" Sogers uv the Fust Tennessee ! Mount !" 

The regiment bounded into the saddle, and in that plight — 
the planter and the eight captive officers marching on before, 
the self-appointed " cunnel" and his chief officer bringing up the 



bible's scouting adventuees. 1Y3 

rear, and the rest of his command — the vellow woman — astrad- 
dle of a horse between them, tliey entered the Union lines. 

On another occasion, hunted down by several companies of 
rebel cavalry, Bible took refuge in a grove of laurel bushes. 
Among the bushes was a hollow tree in which he had once or 
twice slept on previous expeditions. It had been overthrown 
by a tornado, and the soil still clung, in huge bowlders, to its 
upturned roots. Creeping into this tree, he closed the small 
opening with earth, and, boring a hole through the trunk with 
his bowie-knife to admit air, and give him a look-out on his 
pursuers, he lay there without food for three days and nights. 
The rebels saw him enter the grove, and at once surrounded it, 
so tirat escape was impossible. A party then beat the bushes, 
and after examining every square yard of the ground, came and 
sat upon the hollow tree. Listening, he heard them recount 
some of his exploits, and assert very positively, that he had sold 
himself to that notorious dealer in human chattels — the devil — 
who, they thought, had given him power to make himself in- 
visible at will. " An' bein' thet's so, curarades," very logically 
remarked one of the number, " doan't it nat'rallv foller thet the 
devil ar' on the Union side, an' moughtent we 'bout so wall guv 
it up fur a dade beat 'ter oust !" 

When the rebel army retreated from Muifreesboro, its ad- 
vance column came suddenly upon the scout as he was eating 
his breakfast in an " oak opening" near the highway. There 
was no chance of escape or concealment, for the "opening" 
was covered with immense trees standing fifteen and twenty 
feet apart, with only a short grass growing between them. 
Bible was disguised in an immense mass of red hair and 
beard, and wore a tattered suit of the coarse homespun of the 



174 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

district. Knowing he would certainly be discovered, lie assumed 
a vacant, rustic look, and, rising from the ground, gazed stupidly 
at the soldiery. 

" I say, green one, what are you doing thar ?" shouted the 
officer at the head of the column. 

" I'se loss my cow-brutes, Gunnel," replied the scout; "two 
right loikelv heffers; 'un -on 'em speckle all over, 'cept the tail, 
an' thet white'n yer face. Ye hain't seed 'cm no whar 'long 
the road, nohow, hcs ye ?" 

" No, I hain't seed 'em, no whar, nohow," rejoined the officer. 
"Come, step into the ranks; we need just such fellows as you 
are. Why the devil haven't they conscripted you before. Step 
into the ranks, I say," he repeated, as Bible, not seeming to 
comprehend his meaning, reniained standing in his previous po- 
sition. The second command having no more effect on him 
than the first, the officer directed a couple of soldiers to take 
Bible between them, and to fall in at the rear of the column. 
It was not till he was fairly in the road that the scout seemed 
to awaken to the reality of his condition. 

" Why, why, ye hain't a gwiiie to tuck me long o' ye !" he 
exclaimed, frantically appealing to the " cunnel." " Ye hain't a 
gwine tcr tuck me long o' ye ! Ye karn't mean thet !" 

" We do mean that, and you just keep quiet, or, like St. 
Paul, you'll fight against the pricks," said the officer, alluding 
perhaps to the bayonets which the two soldiers had unslung 
and were holding ready to apply to Bible's flanks. 

"Why, ye karn't mean thet! ye karn't mean thet, Cunnel!" 
again piteously cried the scout. " Wh — wh — wdiot'll become 
on the old 'ooman — whot'll become on the cow-brutes ?" 

" D — d the old woman and the cow-brutes," shouted the 



BIBLE'S SCOUTING ADVENTUEES. 176 

officer, riding forward and leaving the new recruit to his fate. 
And thus Bible marehco to the Tullahoma, and thus lie en- 
listed in the second regiment of Alabama Infantry. 

He remained a fortnight at Tullahoma, and while there ob- 
tained a correct idea of the number and disposition of the ene- 
jnies' forces, and brought away with him, in his head, an accu- 
rate map of the rebel fortifications. Desertions being frequent, 
tlie picket lines had been doubled, and when he was ready to 
leave, it had become next to impossible to penetrate them. But 
he was equal to the emergency, and hit upon a bold expedient 
which proved successful. 

Restrictions had been laid by the commanding general on the 
importation of whiskey, and the use of that article, which is a 
sort of necessity to the Southern "native," had been prohibited 
within the lines of the army — except on the eve of battle. Then 
the cold-water generals, themselves, dealt it out — mixed with 
gunpowder — to every man in the ranks. The regulations con- 
cerning it were rigidly enfoi'ced in all the divisions except Har- 
dee's. Tliat general — to whose corps Bible belonged — who 
has, notoriously, a weakness for " spirits" and negro women, 
winked at the indulgence of his men in those luxuries, when it 
did not interfere with their strict observance of " Plardee's Tac- 
tics." 

Knowing his prochvities, Bible, one evening just after sunset, 
took a tin "jug" under his arm, and sauntered past the general's 
tent. 

" I say," shouted Hardee, catching sight of the long form of 
the scout, " where are you going with that big canteen ?" 

"Ter git some bust-head, giiiiral. Ye knows we karn't live 
wuthout thet," replied Bible, with affected simplicity. 



176 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

"Perhaps you karn't : don't you know it's against regula- 
tions. I'll string you up, and give you fifty." 

"Oh, no ! ye woan't do thet, I knows, giniral, fur ye's a feller 
feelin' for we pore sogers," said Bible. "We karn't live wutli- 
out a leetle ruin ; wuthout a leetle, nohow, giniral !" 

" Where do you expect to get it ?" asked the general. 

" Ter Squire Pursley's," said the scout, naming a planter 
living a few miles outside of the lines. " He's got some on the 
tallest old rye ye uver seed. I knows him. An' he's the big- 
gest brandy, too, an' the purtiest nigger gal (rolling his tongue 
in his mouth and smacking his lips,) tliar is anywhar round. 
She's whiter'n ye is, giniral, an' the snuggest piece uv house fur- 
nitur' as uver wus grow'd." 

"And how do you expect to pass the pickets?" asked the 
standard authority on " Tactics." 

" I reckon' this vt'uU brung 'em," answered Bible, tapping his 
canteen significantly. 

"Well, it won't," replied the general, laughing; "but I'll 
give you something that will. And here, take this canteen and 
get me some of that 'big brandy,' and tell the squire I'll be 
over there one of these days. " 

The general gave Bible a pass, another canteen, and five dol- 
lai's of Confederate scrip, to effectually "raise the spirits;" and 
then the scout, saying, "Ye kin reckon on gittin' sich brandy, 
giniral, as wuU sot ye up so high ye'll nuver come down agin,' 
walked leisurely out of the rebel lines. 

Once, while scouting near McMinnville, Bible was captured 
by a small party of Forrest's cavalry. One of the Confederates 
knew him, and he was told he must die. Throwing a rope 
over the limb of a tree, they adjusted it about his neck, and the 



bible's scouting adventures. 177 

rebel officer, talcing out his watch, said to him: "You can have 
five minutes to say your prayers." 

"I thanks ye, Cap'n," said Bible; "fur thet shows ye's got 
a spark.uv humin fceliii' in ye; an' ef ye'll jest [lile a Icttle liglit 
'ood on ter thet spark, it inought be it 'ud blaze up, an' make 
ye a better man nur ye is, or kin be, whiles ye's a fightin' agin' 
yer kentry. As ter prayin', Cap'n, I doan't need no time fur 
thet; fur I'se allers a prayin', not wnth words — but silunt, deep, 
down yere'' — placing his hand on bis heart — " whar I'se allors 
a sayin' ' Our Father !' Oar Father, Capt'n, yourn as wull as 
mine ! An' doan't ye 'spose He's luckin down on ye now, sorry, 
grieved ter His vury heart thet ye, His chile, thet His own Son 
died a wus death nur thi:; far, should be a doin' whot ye is — 
not a hangin' uv me; I hain't no complaint ter make o' thet, 
fur it'r His wull, or ye wouldn't be a doin' on it — but sorry thet 
ye's lifted yer hand agin' yer kentry, agin truth, an' right an' 
the vury liberty ye talks so much about. Prayin' ! I'se allers 
a prayin', Cap'n, allers been a prayin' uver sense Sally said tei 
me : ' Pray, Bible, fur it'r the only way ye kin come nigh ter 
Him : it'r the only way ye kin know, fur shore, thet ye's His 
raal chile.' An' I does know I'se His chile, 'case I loves ter 
pray, an' I'll pray fur ye, Cap'n — ye needs it more nur me. It 
woan't do ye no hurt, an' it mought do ye some good, fnr the 
Lord promises ter yere His chillen, an' He lies yered me^ over 
an' over agin." 

The five minutes had elapsed, but the Confederate office/still 
stood with his watch in his hand. At last, turning suddenly 
away, he said to his men : 

" Take off the rope ! Take him to the general. He may do 
what he likes with him. I'll be d — d if /'// hang him." 



178 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

Before the\' reached Forrest's liead-quarters at McMinnvillc, 
thev were set upon by a squad of Union cavalry, who rescued 
the prisoner, captured a half dozen of the privates, and gave tlie 
captain a mortal wound in the side. Bible laid him upon the 
grass, and, taking liis head tenderly in his lap, prayed for hina. 
As the Captain turned his eyes to take a last look at the setting 
sun, he placed the scout's hand against his heart, and saying, 
" I'm going now — I feel at peace — I owe it to you — God bless 
you for it, may God for ever bless you," he uttered a low 
moan, and died. 

While the rebel forces lay encamped around Chattanooga, 
Bible made them a professional visit. For two days, from the 
top of Lookout Mountain, he looked down on their fortifications. 
With the works fully mapped in his mind, so that, in his rude 
way, he could sketch them upon paper, he started, just at night- 
fall of a murky, stormy day, to make his way northward. Ar- 
riving at the house of a pretended friend, he took supper, and 
retired to sleep in a small room on the ground floor. It was 
not far from eleven o'clock, and raining and blowing violently, 
when a light rap came at his window. He got up — he always 
slept in his clothes, with his arms about him — and applying his 
ear to the glass, heard a low voice say : 

" Ye is betrayed. Come out ter oust. They'll be yere in a 
.hour." 

He lifted the sash, and, springing lightly into the yard, saw 
— as well as the night would permit — a young octoroon woman 
standing unprotected in the storm, thinly clad, and drenched 
from head to foot. Leading him out into the darkness, she said 
to him : 

" This man's son war at master's house not a hour back. 



bible's scouting advextukes. 179 

He's telled on ye ter o;it tlic reward ! They's 'spcctin' the cal- 
vary uvcry miniiit. Hark! I yere's 'em now!" 

While she yet spoke he heard the heavy tramp of horsemen 
alon!::^ the highway. Placing her haiul in his, the woman fled 
hurriedly to the woods. When they had gone about a mile, 
she paused, and said to hira : 

" I karn't go no furder. I must git home or they'll 'spect 
suthiu'. When they find ye's gone, the calvary'U make fur the 
hmdin'. Ye must go up the river, an' 'bout two mile frum 
yere ye'll find a yawl. It'r chained, but ye kin break thet. 
Doan't cross over — a hull regiment is 'camped on t'other side 
— put up the river so fur as ye kin." 

With a mutual " God bless ye," they parted. Bible made 
his way to the river, and narrowly inspected its baidcs, but no 
boat was to be seen ! lie had spent two hours in the search, 
when he came to a bend in the stream which gave him an un- 
interrupted view of it for niiles below. All along the river the 
air was alive with torches hurrying to and fro. He knew his 
pursuers would soon be upon him, and ejaculating a short pray- 
er, in which he reminded the Lokd that the information he car- 
ried in his head was of " no oncommon vallu, orter be got ter 
the giniral ter oust, an' wouldn't be uv no yerthly use" if he 
were hanged just then, he crept down to the water. Entangled in 
the underbrush just above him was a large log, the estray prop- 
erty of some up-country sawyer. Dropping himself into the 
water, he made his way to the log, and, laying down on at it full 
length, paddled out into the river. When he had reached the 
middle of the stream, he let himself drift down with the current, 
and in a short time was among his pursuers. A thousand 
torches blazing on either bank lit up the narrow liver Nvith a 



180 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

lurid glare, and made the smallest object on its surface dis- 
tinctly visible. Knowing that if he kept his position he would 
certainly be seen, Bible rolled off into the water, turned over 
on his back, and, keeping one hand upon the log, floated along 
beside it. When he came opposite to the landing, he heard 
one cavalryman say to another : 

''See! thar's a log; moughtent the durned critter be on 
thet?" 

" No," replied the other ; " thar's nothin' on it. Yer eyes 
is no better 'n moles." 

" Wall, I'll guv it a shot, anyhow," rejoined the first, and 
fired his carbine. The bullet glanced from the log, and struck 
the water a few feet from the scout. The one shot attracted 
others, and for a few minutes the balls fell thickly around him, 
but he escaped unhurt ! The God to whom he had prayed 
shielded him, and brought him safely out of the hands of his 
enemies. In six days, after unparalleled hardships, he reached 
the Union lines. 

A few days before I left Murfreesboro, Bible started on an- 
other trip into the enemies' lines to establish a chain of spy 
stations up to Bragg's head-quarters. He succeeded in the per- 
ilous enterprise, and, when I last heard of him, was pursuing 
his usual avocation, doing really more service to the country 
than many a star-shouldered gentleman who is talked of now iu 
the newspapers, and may be read of centuries hence in history. 

If I have outlined his character distinctly, the reader has 
perceived that he is brave, simple-hearted, outspoken, hospita- 
ble, enterprising, industrious, loyal to liberty, earnest in his 
convictions — though ignorantly confounding names with things — ■ 
a good husband and father, with a quiet humor which flavors 



THE '•POOR whites/' 181 

character as "Worcester sauce flavors a good dinner, a practi- 
cal wisdom which "trusts in the Lord, but keeps its powder 
dry," some talent for bragoing, and that intensity of nature and 
disposition to magnify every thing (illustrated in his stories and 
conversation) which leads the Southerner to do nothing by 
halves, to throw his whole soul into whatever he undert;ikes, to 
be, like Jeremiah's figs, "if good, very good; if bad, not fit to 
feed the pigs." Though morally and intellectually superior to 
the mass of " poor Southern -whites," he is still a good represent- 
ative of the class. They nearly all possess the same traits that 
he does, and dift'er from him only in degree, not in kind. 
That is saying little against them, for one might travel a whole 
summer's day in our Northern cities, and yot meet many men 
who, in all that makes true manhood, are his equals. 



182 



DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



-■1 i^ 






CHAPTER XV. 

THE " POOR WHITES." 

Pkofessor Cairnes, in his very valuable and generally accu- 
rate work on the Slave Power (pages 54, 55), says : 

" In the Southern States, no less than five millions of human 
beings are now said to exist in a condition little removed from 
savage life, eking out a wretched subsistence by hunting, by 
fishing, by hiring themselves out for occasional jobs, and by 
plunder. Combining the restlessness and contempt for regular 
industry peculiar to the savage, with the vices of the proletaire 
of civilized communities, these people make up a class at once 
degraded and dangerous; and constantly re-enforced, as they are, 
by all that is idle, worthless, and lawless among the population 
of the neighboring States, form an inexhaustible preserve of 
ruffianism, ready at hand for all the worst purposes of Southern 

ambition Such are the " mean whites" or " white trash" 

of the Southern States This class comprises, as I have 

said, five millions of human beings — about seven-tenths of the 
whole white population." 

This opinion of Professor Cairnes is no doubt held by fully 
nineteen-twentieths of the people of the Northern States and of 
England. But it is a great — a very great error. Uaving read 
of, or seen, the wretched specimens of humanity who loiter 
about the railway stations, or hover around the large plantations 



THE " POOR WHITES." 183 

on the great Southern thoroughfares, they have jumped to the 
conclusion that they represent "seven-tenths of the whole white 
population" of the South ! The very idea is preposterous, for 
if it were so, one-half of the Southern people would be paupers, 
and no community could exist which had to support that propoi- 
tion of non-producers. But it is not so. The great mass of 
" poor whites" are superior (and I say this with due deliberation, 
and after sixteen years' acquaintance with them) to every other 
class of nn-cultivated men, save our Northern farmers, on the 
globe. They all were born in this country, and have imbibcu 
from our institutions — distorted and perverted as they are at the 
South — a sturdy independence, and an honest regard for each 
other's rights, Avhich make them, though of Scotch, Scotch- 
Irish, or English descent, better soldiers, better citizens, and 
better men than the over-worked, ignorant, half-starved, turbu- 
lent, and degraded peasantry whom England vomits upon the 
North to create riots, rule in our elections, and support such 
politicians as Fernando Wood. 

There is at the South such a class as Mr. Cairnes speaks of. 
They are appropriately called " mean trash," and "eke out a 
wretched subsistence by hunting, by fishing, by hiring them- 
selves out for occasional jobs, and by plunder," but they are a 
comparatively small class. The census shows that they cannot 
number above half a million. 

These people do combine " the restlessness and contempt for 
regular industry peculiar to the savage, with the vices of the 
proletaire of civilized communities," are "at once degraded and 
dangerous," and form a " preserve of ruffianism, ready at hand 
for all the worst purposes of Southern ambition." In fact, I was 
about to add that all the ruffianism of the South is confined to 



184 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

them and to the " chivalry," but I will not say it, for it would 
be strictly true. 

To give the reader an idea of what these "mean whites" 
are, I will glance for a moment at their habits and ways 
of living. Often their houses are the rude pole wigwams of the 
Indian — shaped like a sugar-loaf — with merely a hole at the 
top to let the smoke out, and — the rain in ; but, genei'ally, they 
live in small huts of rough logs, through the crevices of which the 
wind, in winter, whistles a most melancholy tune. These huts 
are floored with nothing bat the ground — hardened Avith mauls, 
and hollowed at the centre, as if to hold the rain that comes in 
at the roof — and their one apartment is furni:<lu'd with a few 
rickety chairs, a pine log — hewn smooth on the upper side, and 
m;ide to serve as a sofa — a cracked skillet, a dirty frying-pan 
an old-fashioned rifle, two or three sleepy dogs, and a baker's 
dozen of half-clad children, with skins and hair colored like a 
tallow candle dipped in tobacco-juice. In one corner may be a 
mud oven, lialf crumbled back to its original earth, and in tlie 
others, two or three low beds, with corn-shuck mattresses and 
tattered furnishings; but the whole aspect of the place reminds 
one strongly of a tolerably-kept swine-sty or dog-kennel. 
The character of the inmates of these hovels is suited to their 
surroundings. They are indolent, shiftless, and thieving; given 
to whiskey-drinking, snuff-dipping, clay-eating, and all manner 
of social vices. Brothers intermarry with sisters, fathers co- 
habit with daughters, and husbands sell, or barter away, their 
wives, as freely as they would their hounds, or as the planter 
would his slaves. I have myself met a number of these white 
women who had been sold into prostitution by their natural 
protectors, for a few dollars or a good rifle. 



THE " POOH WHITES." 185 

Their indolence is almost past belief. They are literally " too 
lazy to come in when it rains." A traveler tells of askinoj shel- 
ter at one of their shanties in a storm. The rain was pouring 
in at the roof, and the family were huddled about the only dry 
spot on the floor. 

"Why don't you mend your roof?" the traveler asked. 

" Stranger," replied the host, " we can't do it — it rains." 

" But it doesn't always rain — why not mend it in dry 
weather ?" 

" Why, wh — whot's the use o' mendin' it when it doan't 
leak ?" was the very sensible reply. 

Still, they have a mortal antipathy to water. They never 
take it outwardl}', unless the roof leaks, or they are caught out 
in a rain-storm, and never inwardly, unless it is mixed with 
apple-jack or whiskey. Wliiskey is their staple beverage. By 
exchanging deer or other game (their only currency) at some 
cross-road doggery, they obtain plentiful supplies of a vile fluid, 
Avliich is compounded of log-wood, strychnine, juniper berries, 
and alcohol, and " circulates" among them under the appropri- 
ate names of "Tangle-foot," "Blue-ruin," "Red-eye," "Bust- 
head," and " Knock-'em-stitF." If the vender of this vile stulT 
did not dilute it freely with water — so freely that it rarely fails 
to itself " get tight" in cold weather — the race of mean South- 
ern whites" would soon be swept from the earth. As it is, they 
seem to thrive and fatten upon it; old men, dozing away in the 
chimney-corner, and little children, tottling about the floor, 
drink it as if it were water. 

A Northern man was once forced to dine at one of then, 
hovels. Missing the customary " whiskey-kag" from the table, 
he said to the housewife : 



186 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

"Can't you give me a mug of Knock-'em-stiff ?" 

"I can't, Stranger," was her reply: "I hain't nary drap tcr 
speer." 

*' None to spare ! Why, I see a barrel of it there in the cor- 
ner !" 

" A barr'l uv it !" exclaimed the woman, " why, whot's thet 
fur a lone widder an' sevin chillen ? We shill be nation dry 
'fore winter's over!" 

Not one in a thousand of these people can read, and not one 
in ten thousand can write. I have known many who never saw 
a book or a newspaper, and some who never heard of a Bible 
or a spelling-book. As a consequence of such ignorance, they 
have very crude notions of God and religious duty. In fact, 
though they often spend weeks at camp-meetings, shouting 
"Glory" and groaning ''Old Hundred," they have no religion. 
I once heard one of their preachers deliver a sermon which well 
illustrated their knowledge of sjnritual things. 

It was at a little church in the shadow of Bald mountain, one 
of the immense range dividing North Carolina from Tennessee. 

The building was a simple structure of logs, with a puncheon 
floor, and a single opening for a door, but without a window or 
a chimney. On a bare spot in its centre a huge light-wood fire 
was blazing, and roaring, and fuming and forcing thick volumes 
of smoke into the people's eyes till they wept as if they were 
so many watering-pots. The congregation was seated around 
this fire on benches of rough logs, and the preacher occupied a 
small platform, raised a few steps from the floor, and furnished 
with a single block of wood which ofi3ciated as a chair. The 
women had bare heads and feet, and their only garment (it was 
the mouth of November) seemed to be a coarse cottonade gown, 



THE " rOOR WHITES." 187 

falling straight from the nock to just below the knees. The 
men had long- matted hair and shaggy beards, and wore slouched 
hats (they kept them on daring the services), and linsey trowsers, 
and hunting shirts, so begrimed with dirt, and so torn and 
patched in a thousand places, that scarcely a vestige of the 
original material was left visible to the naked eye. Many of 
them — owing, no doubt, to their custom of intermarrying — were 
deformed and apparently idiotic, and they all had stunted, ague- 
distorted bodies, untanned-leather skins, small heads, round as 
a bullet, and coarse, wiry hair, which looked like shreds of 
oakum gathered into mops, and dyed with lampblack. 

The preacher's text, which he credited to the apostle David, 
was : " Try the sperrets ;" and he showed, to the satisfaction of 
bis auditory, that while Scripture expicssly enjoins the taking 
of "a little wine" — which, he said, was the ancient name for 
whiskey — " for the stomach's sake," it as expressly requires that 
we shall " try the sperrets," or, in other words, that we shall 
drink none but the very best whiskey we can get. He reckoned 
"thet sech ruin as come from 'Hio, an' could be got ter Jim 
Decker's — over the mountain ter Jonesboro — fur a coon-skin a 
gallon, was party tollable sort o' ruin, an' mought do fur white 
folk, but sech as Diin Fergusoq 'stilled, down thar ter the mill, 
warn't no way fit fur a boss ter drink." He belabored bad 
whiskey, for a time, with savage vehemence, and then opened 
his batteries upon tobacco. Whiskey was, as the Bible 
aflirms, good for the stomach, and he reckoned the " clar stuff 
wouldn't hurt no part uv a huinin bcin'," but tobacco was a vile 
thing that would kill any living creature but woman; and how 
she could chaw it, and smoke it, and snuff it, and dip it, as slie 
did, he couldn't see, no how. Its use warn't noway sanctioned 



188 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

by Scriptur,' and nary one uv the Apostles, Prophets, or good 
men of the olden time uver used it; and while the Bible often 
spoke of wine and " sperrets, it nuver onst mentioned the name 
uv terbacker, and that proved it couldn't be good ter take !" 

When he had " adjourned the meeting" for a fortnight — 
Providence wullin', an' thar bein' no freshet on the mounting 
— I ventured to suggest to him that it was possible he had mis- 
understood his text, and I then learned that he could not read, 
and that a neighboring planter — one of the chivalry — had given 
him the text, outlined his subject, told him that the text refers 
to ardent spirits, and that he must be sure to "pitch powerful 
strong inter Dan Ferguson's whiskey." 

[The men who can thus sport with the best feelings of their 
fellows, are, as we know, capable of worse things.] 

Nowhere but in the Slave States is there a class of whites so 
ignorant and so degraded as are these people. In every other 
country the peasantry labor, are the principal producers, the 
really indispensable part of the community; but the "mean 
white" of the South does not know how to labor; he pro- 
duces nothing; he is a fungous growth on the body of society, 
absorbing the strength and life of its other parts, and he would 
not exist if the Southern system were in a healthy state. And" 
he is the natural product of Slavery, for slavery, which makes 
the slave the planter's blacksmith, and wheelwright, and carpen- 
ter, and artisan of all work, shuts upon the mean white man 
every avenue of honest toil, and drives him to the barren sand- 
hills to starve and to die. 

lie steals the deer fi-om the planter's forests, the hams from 
his smokehouses, and the chickens from his hen-roosts, and he 
vends corruption and bad whiskey among the negroes ; but the 



THE '' POOR WHITES." 189 

planter tolerates hiin for his vote. I have seen a planter march 
twenty of these wretched caricatures of humanity up to tlie polls, 
and when they had voted at his bidding, have had him turn 
to me and say, with a sneer on his lips : 

"This is your boasted Democracy; this trash governs this 
country ; Jefferson gave them the right of suffrage, and they 
suppose they are voting for Jefferson nmv.^'' 

" But," I said to him, " why do you not let them think? why 
not give them schools and work ?" 

"Because," he replied, "if we did, they might not vote for 
Jefferson 1" 

To these "mean whites," Mr. Cairnes's description appropri- 
ately applies, and it applies onl// to them. The great mass of 
poor whites, as I have said, are a very different people. The 
poor white man labors, the mean white man does not labor; and 
labor marks the distinction between them. Labor makes one 
hardy, industrious, and enterprising, a law-abiding and useful 
citizen ; idleness makes the other thieving, vicious, law-breaking, 
and of "no sort of account" to himself or society. 

The laboring whites comprise two-thirds of the free popula- 
tion of the South, and they have done more for its material 
progress than all its " chivalry" and all its slaves. They have 
done more, because they have worked under the stimulus of 
freedom, and because they vastly outnumber the other classes. 
The census shows that on the first of June, 1880, there were in 
the fourteen Slave States, exclusive of Delaware, one million, 
three hundred and fifty-nine thousand, six hundred and fifty-five 
white males engaged in agricultural and other out-door employ- 
ments. Of this number, nine hundred and one thousand, one 
hundred and two are classed as "farmers" — men who till their 



190 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

own land : two hundred and thirty thousand, one hundred and 
forty-six are chxssed as " farm-laborers" — men who till the land 
of others : and two hundred and twenty-eight thousand, four 
hundred and seven are classed as " laborers" — men engaged in 
out-door work other than the tillage of land. The " farmers" 
are not to be confounded with the planters — men who work 
large tracts of land and large bodies of slaves, but do not work 
themselves — -for the census takes distinct account of the latter. 
They number only eighty-five thousand, five hundred and fifty- 
eight, but — sucii has been the working of the peculiar institu- 
tion — they own nearly three-fourths of the negroes and landed 
property of the South. These one million, three hundred and 
odd thousand of laboring white men represent a population of 
about six millions ; and if we add to them the four hundred 
thousand represented by the planters, and the one million repre- 
sented by men in trade, manufactures, and the professions, there 
can hardly remain, in a total population of less than eight mil- 
lions, "five millions of human beings who eke out a wretched 
subsistence by hunting, by fishing, by hiring themselves out for 
occasional jobs, and by plunder." Plalf a million — the number 
I before stated — is vastly nearer the truth. 

■ Little is known at the North of this large working population, 
for the reason that they live remote from the great traveled routes, 
and have been seldom seen by travelers. They are scattered 
over all the South, but are most numerous in the Border States 
and in Texas. The most of them own small farms, and till the 
soil with their own hands. Some of them have one or two 
slaves, and in rare instances the more industrious have acquired 
ten or fifteen — but they work with the blacks in the fields, and 
treat thein very much as our Northern farmers treat their hired 



TUR " POOR WHITES." 191 

workmen. Before the war the traveler in the interior of Noith 
Carolina would have heard the axe of master and man falling, 
with alternate strokes, in the depths of the evergreen forests, 
or he would have seen the two " camped out" together in the 
same tent or pine-pole cabin, drinking from the same gonrd — 
the darky always after his master — eating from the same rude 
table, and sharing the same bed — the cabin floor — in common. 
So, too, in Kentucky, Tennessee, Missouri, AVestern Virginia, 
and middle and upper Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi, he 
would have seen the white and the black ploughing side by side, 
or, bared to the waist, swinging the old-fashioned scythe, in 
good-natured rivalry as to which could cut the broadest swath 
of yellow wheat or waving timothy, or tote the biggest bundle 
of corn to the evening husking-bee. And when the evening 
had come, he would have found them gathered in the old log 
barn, husking, and singing, and shouting, and dancing in com- 
pany, to the tune of " Ole Virginny," or " Rose, Rose, do coal 
brack Rose," played by "old Uncle Ned," who "had no wool 
on de top ob his head," but whose skinny fingers, with handy 
blows, could rap the music out of " de ole banjoes." 

The more wealthy of this class sometimes give their children 
what might be called a fair common-school education, but fully 
one-half of them never learn to read or write. The reason of 
this is, thei'e are no schools for the common people at the South. 
In a village, ten or twenty miles distant, there may be a preten- 
tious " Female College," or " Institute of Learning for Young 
Men," where " a little Latin and less Greek" is dispensed to the 
young idea at the rate of four or five hundred dollars per annum, 
but these prices place their "stores of knowledge" far above the 
reach of the hard-toiling farmer. Only in Tennessee, so far 



192 DO'vVN IN TENNESSEE. 

as I know, are there any free schools, and the scanty State al- 
lowance which formerly supported them, was dealt out with a 
most parsimonious hand by the ruling aristocracy. How much 
light those institutions gave the people, may be guessed at from 
the fact that any one was qualified to instruct in them who 
could " read, write, and do sums in addition." 

So many of these people being unable to read, it may be in- 
ferred tbey generally do not " take the papers." They do not. 
And whv should they? Would it be wisdom in the Southern 
farmer, when his wife and children were barefoot, and the wolf — 
hunger — was looking in at his door, to waste one-tenth of his only 
bale of cotton on a wretched hebdomadal, filled with Secession, 
slavery, and negro advertisements, whose stupid editorial he 
would be a fortnight in spelling out? 

As he does not read, he has to derive his knowledge of cur- 
rent events and political affairs from his wealthier neighbor, 
who does read, and who is sure to be a slave-owner, and one of 
the self-baptized " chivalry." At a political barbacue, or a court- 
day gathering, the farmer may hear, once or twice in the year, the 
two sides of every national question but the, to him, all-import- 
ant one of slavery. If that subject is at all touched upon on 
such an occasion, it is shown to be of divine origin — dating 
back to the time when Ham first casl a black shadow across his 
. looking-glass, and only to end when the skins of his descendants 
no longer wear mourning for their forefather's sin. 

Thus ignorant, and thus instructed, is it strange that the South- 
ern fjirmer deems slavery altogether lovelier than freedom ? What 
does he know of freedom ? What does he know of what it has 
done for the poor man of the North ? Nothing. He never 
saw a Northern man in all his life, except, it may be, a Yankee 



THE " POOK WHITES." 193 

pedlar, aiul he — my Yankee friends will, I hope, take no offence 
at my saying this, for I am a Yankee myself — he, when he mi- 
grates South, develops into about the meanest specimen of hu- 
manity to be found on this planet. 

If the Southern workingman knew what freedom is ; if he 
knew what it does at the North ; how it builds a free school 
at every cross-road, while knowledge is saddled with a 
Morrill tariff at the South ; how it makes the Northern laborer 
comparatively rich, while Ice is wretchedly poor ; how it gives 
the Northern fiirmer a comfortable home for himself and out- 
buildings for his cattle, while he lodges in a mud-chinked hovel, 
and stables his cows in the woods ; how the Northern working- 
man travels in luxurious steamboats or velvet-cushioned cars, 
while he journeys on the hurricane deck of a mule, or in that 
sort of railway train that will climb the steepest grade, if it only 
has time enough — an ox-cart drawn by a single two-year-old 
heifer; how the Northern fanner is respected and honored be- 
cause he labors, while he is looked down upon and despised for 
doing the same thing; how the poorest Northern man votes, 
independently and intelligently, as one of the real " sovereigns 
of the nation," while he, misled by a stump speech, or bribed 
by a glass of whiskey, ignorantly casts his ballot for the very 
men who are robbing him of his birth-right : if he knew all this, 
would he not crush slavery, and end the rebellion in a day ? 
He would. And slavery will not be efiectually crushed, or the 
Rebellion ended, until he does know it. We may overrun the 
South, we may make its fields a desolation, and its cities heaps 
of ruin, but until we reach the reason and the hearts of these 
men, we shall stand ever on the crater of a volcano, whose red- 
hot lava may at any hour again burst forth and deluge the land 



194 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

with blood and fire ! It is idle to talk of conquering a union 
■with a disaffected people. It never was done, and never will be 
done. Ireland, and Italy, and Hungary, ought to convince us 
of that. 

But how, while every a]?le-bodied Southern man is in the 
Rebel army, can we reach these people ? I answer, by fighting 
them with a sword in one hand and a Union newspaper in the 
other — by giving them ideas as well as bullets. By scattering 
loyal publications broadcast over the conquered districts ; and by 
starting a free press wherever we hold a foot of Southern soil. 
If the men are away in the army, the women will be at home, and 
will read these things, and that will be enough. If we convert 
them, the country is saved. Woman, in this century, is every 
where that " power behind the throne" v> hich is mightier than 
the throne itself, and the Southern women have been, and are, 
the mainspring of this Rebellion. Every dollar that we thus 
plant in the South will spring up a man, in tattered hat and 
rasrged butternuts, it may be, but still a man, hardy, earnest, 
brave, who, for what he thinks is right, will march straight up 
to the cannon's mouth, and meet death " as if he loved it." 

I have been led into this long digression by an earnest desire 
to disabuse the Northern mind in regard to these people. For 
this reason I have drawn, at full length, the portraits of " Long 
Tom" and " Bible Smith" in this volume, and of "Andy Jones" 
and the farmer " Barnes" in the book " Among the Pines." 
They are all representatives of this class. I have endeavored 
to sketch their characters faithfully — extenuating nothing and 
setting nothing down in malice — that the reader may believe, 
what I know, that there is not in the whole North a more 
worthy, industrious, enterprising, honest, brave, and liberty- 



THE "POOK WHITES." 195 

loving class of people than the great body of poor Southern 
whites. Take the heel of the raan-buying and woman-whipping 
aristocrat from off their necks, give them free schools and a 
chance to rise, and they will make the South, with its prolific 
soil, its immense water-power, and its vast mineral wealth, such 
a country as the sun never yet looked upon, and this Union 
such a Union as will be " the light of the nations and the glory 
of the earth !" 



196 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

A DAY WITH ROSECRANS. 

That afternoon I sent my letters to the Commanding Gene- 
ral, and the next morning, after breakfast, taking particular 
direction from the " culled gemman" who had been my bearer 
of dispatches, I set out in search of his quarters. On a side 
street at a little distance from the centre of the town, I found 
a modest brick building, from the balcony of which a large flag 
was flying. Before this house a solitary sentinel was pacing to 
and fro with a musket on his shoulder, and in the court-yard 
•beyond it, in the shade of a group of tents, half a dozen ofiicers 
were reading newspapers, or lazily pufiing away at their meer- 
schaums. Near by, in the door-way of a smaller building, — an 
edifice about as large as a half grown hen-coop, — with his body 
balanced on the legs of a rosewood chair, and his feet braced 
against the door jam, another soldier was indulging in the de- 
lightful employments of his superiors. Approaching this soldier, 
I said to him : 

" Are these the General's quarters ?" 

" Yaw, yaw. General Rosey. Dat is he, dat is he," replied 
the " adopted citizen," pointing to an ofiicer on a powerful 
graj', at the head of a squadron of cavahy, which just then was 
thundering down the road. The escort halted abreast of the 
principal entrance, and the ofiicer — a straight, compactly built, 
quick motioned man, in a rusty uniform, a worn slouched hat, 



A DAY WITH EOSECKANS. 197 

and mud-encrusted cavalry boots — sprang to the ground, A 
few other officers followed him, and then, without a word being* 
spoken, the cavalry wheeled, and thundered down the road 
again. 

" And that is the General ?" I said to the soldier. 

" Yaw, yaw, dat is old Rosey. I fights mit him." 

" Then, you don't ' fight mit Sigel V " I rejoined, smiling. 

" Yaw, yaw, I fights mit Segel py-me-by (before.) 1 fights 
rait Rosey now. ilim better as Sigel." 

Not pausing to discuss the respective merits of the two com- 
manders, I entered the wide hall of the larger building, and 
said to an orderly on duty near the door-way : 

" Will you take my name to the General ?" 

" Av coorse, yer honor," replied the soldier, his mouth dis- 
tending into a good-natured grin ; " but as ye knows it an' I 
don't, hedn't ye better be after takin' it ter him yerself. Ye'U 
find him in there." 

Following the direction in which he pointed, I entered a room 
at the left, on the door of which were posted, in large letters, 
the words " Aides-de-Camp." It was a square, spacious apart- 
ment, with a huge fire-place surmounted by a wooden mantel, 
a smoke-begrimed ceiling, dingy walls, covered with gaudy 
paper hangings, and two wide windows looking out upon the 
street. A camp cot, dressed in a soldier's blanket, and a pair 
of jackboots, stood in one corner, and in the others were a 
miscellaneous assortment of swords, spurs, muskets, knapsacks, 
and kindred articles known to modern warfare. A variety of 
dilapidated chairs, and canvas-bottomed stools, straggled about 
the floor, and between the windows was a large round table, 
littered over with maps, newspapers, and writing utensils. At 



198 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

this table were two or three young gentlemen in the uuiform of 
staff officers, and addressing one of them, I asked if the General 
were " visible" so early in the day! He replied that he was 
then at breakfast, but that the Chief of Statf could be seen at 
once. Expressing a desire to meet that gentleman, I was con- 
ducted into an adjoining room, of smaller dimensions but fur- 
nished in much the same manner as the other. In a corner 
by the window, seated at a small pine desk, — a sort of packing 
box, perched on a long-legged stool, and divided into pigeon- 
holes, with a turn-down lid — was a tall, deep-chested, sinewy 
built man, with regular, massive features, a full, clear blue eye, 
slightly dashed with gray, and a high, broad forehead, rising 
into a ridge over the eyes as if it had been thrown up by a 
plough. There was something singularly engaging in his open, 
expressive face, and his whole appearance indicated, as the 
phrase goes, " great reversed power." His uniform, though 
cleanly brushed, and setting easily upon him, had a- sort of 
democratic air, and every thing about him seemed to denote 
that he was " a man of the people." A rusty slouched hat 
large enough to have fitted Daniel Webster, lay on the desk 
before him, but a glance at that was not needed to convince 
me that his head held more than the common share of brains. 
Though he is yet young — not thirty-three — the reader has heard 
of him, and if he lives, he will make his name long remembered 
in our history. He glanced at me as I approached, and when 
I mentioned my name, rose, and extending his hand in a free, 
cordial way, said : 

" I am glad to meet you. I have seen your handwriting 

, his (X) mark." 

" And I have seen yours," I replied, grasping his hand Avilh 



A DAY WITH ROSECRANS. 199 

equal cordiality. " But, you, write with a steel pen — epics, in 
the measure of Hail Columbia.* 

I sat down, and in ten minutes knew him as well as I might 
have known some other men in ten years. Nearly an hour 
had slipped away in pleasant chat with him, and my intended 
interview with Rosecrans was almost forgotten, when Garfit.'l<l 
reminded me that I had better see the General before he was 
overrun with visitors. Opening the door of an inner room, he 
led me at once into another large, square apartment, which 
had, like the first, a bare floor, and greasy walls, hung round 
with maps, and decorated with gaudy paper-hangings, done 
into panels huge enough to have fitted the " grand hall" of the 
Mammoth Cave. At the right of the doorway was a high- 
post bedstead, covered with a spotless white counterpane, and 
about the room, in appropriate places, were a few hard-bot- 
tomed chairs, a pine wash-stand, with earthenware wash-basin, 
and wooden water-pail, and an old-fashioned sideboard, evi- 
dently the left-behind property of the previous occupant. On 
the mantel were a few books, a brace of revolvers, a silver- 
hilted sword bearing marks of " actual service," and two or 
three kerosene lamps, which, to all appearance, had done abso- 
lutely nothing towards dispelling the darkness of this " be- 
nighted world." Against the wall, by the front window, was a 
large pine table, surmounted by a frame-work of " pigeon holes," 
and on it were various open maps, several secession newspapers, 
some bundles of " official documents" done up in " red tape," 

* When about to lead the final charge at the battle of Middle-Creek, 
General Garfield pulled off his coat, tossed it up into a tree and, turning 
to his men, cried : " Come on, boys ! Give them Kail Columbia." The 
men threw up their caps with a wild shout, rushed at the enemy, and 
drove them from the field, General Garfield leading the way. 



200 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

and a huge pile of unopened letters. There seemed a place for 
every thing and every thing seemed in its place, but the mingled 
air of rustic simplicity and faded gentility which pervaded the 
room, had a most grotesque effect, and only one object in it 
at all indicated that it was the private apartment of one of the 
first military men of the time. That one object was Rose- 
crans himself. 

He sat bolt upright in a rosewood arm-chair, covered with 
faded brocatelle, and sadly out at the elbows; and, with a 
cigar in his mouth, and a knife in his hand, was rapidly dis- 
secting the letters which lay on the table before him. When 
my name was mentioned he rose, took my hand, and gave me 
a quick, searching glance. In that glance — I felt it — he 
sounded me, took my measure — as accurately as if he had been 
my tailor — and, with unerring decision, fixed my exact place 
in the scale of creation. From my first entrance into Ken- 
tucky, from high and low, black and white, bond and free, 
military men and civilians, I had heard nothing but extrava- 
gant eulogies of this man, and I had come prepared to be dis- 
appointed in him ; but that one glance, the indescribable smile 
that passed over his face, and a certain atmosphere of power 
which seemed to envelop him, made me feel that, for once, the 
popular estimate was the true one. And no one ever came 
within his influence without being fascinated as I was, or without 
feeling, on the instant, the magnetism of a great nature. Mo- 
tioning me to a seat, and resuming his letters, he said, while 
another of those peculiar smiles passed over his face : 

" I've been expecting yon." 

" Expecting me, Sir !" I exclaimed in undisguised astonish- 
ment. " I've heard you knew every thing. I reckon it's so." 



A DAY WITH EOSECRANS. 201 

" Not exactly, bat I knew you were coming. Yoa'vc been 
announced," and continuing to open the letters, he handed me 
one of them. 

It was from the chaplain of an Indiana regiment, whom the 
red-faced landlord had stowed away in my room one night at 
Nashville. The worthy gentleman had a plan for educating 
the blacks in "ten lessons of one hour each," and, not content 
with boring me with it till two o'clock in the morning, had, 
without ray consent, written Rosecrans referring him to me for 
" further particulars." 

" What do you know of that man V he asked, going on with 
his letters. 

" Nothing. I never saw him." 

" Never saw him !" 

" No. I went to bed without a candle, and he left before I 
awoke in the morning." 

" Bnt you formed some opinion of him. What was it ?" 

" That he knew about as much of the Southern negro, as I 
know of the moon." 

" I thought so. A mere theorist. Only practical men are 

fit for the work we've in hand Mr. . What do i/ou think 

of the negro ?" 

" That he is unfortunate in being black," I replied, smiling. 

"Yes, yes, I know. But is he naturally equal to the white 
man ?" 

" Measured by the New Testament standard he may be su- 
perior — for he is meek enough to be a slave — bnt measured by 
o?rr standard, he is certainly inferior. He has not the aggressive 
qualities of the white man." 

" Well, what shall we do with him ?" 
9* 



202 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" Let him alone." 

" You are right," and for a moment he dropped the letters. 
" Give him a Bible and a spelling-book, free air, and a chance 
for something more than six feet of God's earth, and. Let Him 
Alone." 

Saying this he dived again into his correspondence. 

" This war will give him all that," I replied. 

*' Yes, and it will give it to every working man, black or 
white. This is the working man's war. For four thousand 
years labor has been struggling for its rights — now it will get 
them. Would to God that every poor man, North and South, 
could realize this." 

He kept on reading, but his fine face flushed, his nervous lip 
quivered, and his clear, luminous eye actually blazed, as he 
spoke these words. 

'' I am glad you sympathize with the working man," 1 
said. 

" Sympathize with him ! I honor him. He is the true noble- 
man. Did you never read where it says, ' cursed is the ground 
for thy sake ?'' Does not that mean that God ordained labor 
for our good ? that it is our highest glory ?" 

The mass of letters, by this- time, had adjusted themselves 
into several separate heaps, and touching a small bell which 
stood on the table, he said to a young officer who at once ap- 
peared in the doorway: "Tompe}', hand these to Goddard, 
these to Barnett, these to Taylor, and send this to Ducat, and 
then come here with the Major. I've letters to write. Is any 
one waiting to see me ?" 

" Yes, sir ; the Medical Director and half a dozen others," 
answered the aide. 



A DAY WITH ROSECRANS. 203 

" Ask them in," and turning to me, he added : " Captain 

Thompson, this is our guest, Mr, . Get him a pass to go 

and come when he likes. Give him a horse, and a squad, 
whenever ho wants to go outside of the lines. He'll stay 
with us a month or two." 

" Say a day or two," I interrupted, laughing, " and you'll 
come nearer the truth." 

'' Not a second less than a month. You can't get away till I 
give you a pass." 

The aide disappeared, and the Medical Director, and the 
" half a dozen others" entered the room. 

" Good morning, gentlemen. Be seated," said Rusecrans. 
" What can I do for you. Doctor ?" 

"The health of the men, General," replied the Doctor, "with 
the warm weather coming on, requires more vegetable food. 
Would it not be well to order potatoes?" 

" I ordered them six weeks ago — sent ^n oflScer into Ohio, 
and for seven thousand dollars he bought what would have 
cost us twenty-one thousand in Nashville. They ought to 
have been here before now." 

" General," said the medical man, with unaffected admira- 
tion, " you think of every thing," 

" I have to. Good morning, Doctor. Colonel, what can I 
do for i/ou .^" added the laconic general, turning to a slightly- 
built, dark-complexioned young man, and introducing him to 
me as follows : " Mr. , this is one of the McCook's, Colo- 
nel Dan. You've heard of him." 

At this moment the aides came in, and seated themselves at 
the two opposite corners of the pine table. An orderly also 
entered, and handed the General a note from one of the Corps 



204 DOWN IN TENNESSEK. 

commanders. Rosecraus introduced me to " the Major" — the 
other aide — dictated to him a reply to the note, and in the 
same breath said to McCook : 

" Now, Colonel, what is it ?" 

" My men," said McCook, " in half an hour yesterday, sub- 
scribed four thousand dollars to get the Henry rifle. I want 
liberty to use it," 

While the Colonel was speaking, the General took up the 
pile of letters remaining on the table, and began dictating to 
the two aides. 

"Can they hit an elephant at a hundred paces?" he asked. 

" Two hundred of them can hit the head of a candle box 
three times in five, at three hundred yards," rejoined McCook, 
a flush of pride on his face. A discussion as to the merits of 
the difterent kinds of rifles ensued, but not understanding it 
then, I cannot report it now. Meanwhile the General was dic- 
tating as fast as the .two aides could write, and addressing an 
occasional remark to me. McCook had done speaking, when a 
very tall, ungainly man, with stooping shoulders, and long 
white hair, entered the room, and stalking directly up to the 
General, and taking his hand, said : 

" I'm going by the train. Good-by." 

" Good-by, and God bless you," returned Rosecrans, rising. 
" If you ever want to come back, we'll find a warm place for 

you." 

" I know you will. I've had experience of your warm 
places," rejoined the veteran, smiling. 

" And he likes them," said the General, turning to me. 
" At Stone River, in the hottest fire, when his men were 
hugging the ground as if they'd bury themselves, the Parson 



A DAY WITH ROSECKANS. 205 

got np and made them a speech, and they do say, he told 
them—" 

" No, I didn't. Don't traduce your friends, General," re- 
joined the Parson, laughing. " Good-by." 

" Good-by, and God bless you," said the General. 

"Good-by, boys, all of you," said the' Parson, warmly. 
Every officer in the room grasped his hand, and amid a chorus 
of " God bless yons" he went out. It was "the fighting Par- 
son," Colonel Moody of the 74th Ohio. 

A half a dozen others now crowded around and addressed 
Rosecrans, who replied to each, and at the same time kept on 
dictating, his words all the while pouring forth in quick, terse 
sentences, his luminous eves smilino- and his nervous fino'ers 
thrumming an odd accompaniment on the ragged arm of his 
chair. In all this he manifested no effort. I thought he 
could have done twice as much had it been possible for 
words to flow faster. His mind seemed to act with lightning 
rapidity, ^^asAm^f from premise to conclusion, and grasping with 
ease half a dozen subjects in almost instantaneous succession. 
At last I said to him : 

" I have seen business men turn off work, but never any wdio 
did it half so fast as you." 

" I have been a business man. There are some relics of my 
business career. I have credit for those at the Patent Office," 
he replied, pointing to the lamps on the mantel-piece. They 
were the " Patent Kerosene Burners, warranted to give out 
neither smoke nor odor," which every American housewife 
values, but which every American housewife may not know she 
owes to 'a Major-Gcneral. 

Another aide then entered, and announced that several ladies 



206 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

of the Sanitary Commission, about to depart by the train, dc- 
. sired to take leave of the General. " Show them in," he replied, 
rising, and taking a single turn up and down the rooni. This 
seemed a well understood signal, for all present except the 
aides' at once left the apartment. I was rising to follow 
when he said to me : " Don't go. Stay, and after lunch we'll 
ride out to Sherridan's." 

The ladies came in, and the General entered into conversa- 
tion with them in a free and vivacious manner, as if the in- 
terests of a vast army, and movements involving the lives of 
thousands bad not, the moment before, engaged his attention. 
They were all " on the shady side of forty," and one was not 
a day younger tlian fifty ; but he addressed them throughout 
the interview as " young ladies." When they had gone, I said 
to him : " Don't consider me impertinent, but I am curious to 
know why you called your visitors ' young ladies.' " 

" Because they are young. Any woman who comes a tliou- 
sand miles to attend on sick and dying men must be young- 
young of soul — and, no matter how old she grows, she'll ahvays 
be young." 

The letters were written, the two aides had disappeared, and 
another knot of officers had gathered around the General, when 
a short, stout, thick-necked man, with puffy cheeks, coarse, 
heavy featui'es, and very much the air of a Bowery boy rigged 
out in regimentals, swaggered into the room with his hat on. 
Giving no heed to the galaxy of generals and major-generals 
about me, he stalked up to Rosecrans, and said to him : " Can 
I see you ?" They passed to the farther corner of the apart- 
ment, and I asked the gentleman nearest me : " Who is he ?" 
*' Geperal McCook," was the answer. 



A DAY WITH KOSEOKAXS. 207 

It was Major-General Alexander McDowell McCook — the 
" fighting McCook" — who never fonght without being beaten, 
and has probably wasted more lives than anj? ten generals in 
the army. 

" Why do you always attack McCook ?" I asked Captain 
Firman, the rebel General Wheeler's aide, a short time after- 
wards. " Because we arc always sure to whip him," was his 
reply. 

While the two generals were in conversation, a spare, sallow- 
faced, dark-haired man, who had the air and 'manners of a 
gentleman, entered the room, and bowing to the officers about 
me, joined the two in the corner. " That is Crittenden," said 
the officer. " They are here for consultation. We must leave." 

We all passed into General Garfield's apartment, and every 
chair and stool in the room, and the low camp-cot in the cor- 
ner, were soon filled with " sitters" — and sitters who would 
grace any portrait-gallery in the world. 

The reader has heard of every one of them. The stout, full- 
faced, florid-complexioned man, leaning against the wall by the 
window, was the " old Russian" Turchin. The very tall, slim 
young man, with long, dark hair and flowing beard, just then 
canted back in his chair, with his long legs perched on the 
window-sill, was the Chief of Cavalry — Stanley, The hand- 
some man next to him, with wavy, brown hair, and face so 
much like Lowell's, was St. Clair Morton, who might be a poet, 
and is a hero. The scarred warrior on his right, with long, 
white beard, thin, gray tufts on the sides of his head, and spec- 
tacles on his nose, was Van Cleve ; and leaning against the 
wall, at his back, the dark man, with keen, intense eyes, heavy 
black beard, and coarse, wiry hair, starting up into a sort 



208 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

of pyramid on the top of liis head, was Jeff. C. Davis, who 
killed Nelson. The plain, farmer-like, plucky-looking man on 
my -right, was Palmer — now commanding the Fourteenth 
Corps. The tall man next to him, in rusty uniform and big 
boots, with a full, clear eye, and expressive face, was Negley ; 
and in other parts of the room were Hazen, Lytle, Reynolds, 
Marker, King, McKibben, and others, " too numerous to 
mention." 

Thrusting his pen behind his ear, Garfield wheeled about on 
his stool, and opened the conversation. It soon turned upon 
the rebellion, which he compared to the conspiracy of Catiline. 
It had, he said, the same origin 'and objects, and was set afoot 
by a similar class of bankrupt scoundrels. A discussion followed, 
and in it, Garfield — who, at fifteen, drove horses on a canal, 
and worked his way through College with a saw and a jack- 
plane — displayed a classical knowledge that would have done 
credit to any Harvard professor. At its close, a singularly 
quiet, unassuming man, in plain pants, loose, blue sack, and 
every-day boots, entered the room, and took a seat on the 
window-sill, by the side of Stanlej'. He was below the me- 
dium height, slightly built, with closely-cut hair and beard, 
and a dark, sun-browned face. There was nothing about him 
to attract attention, except his eye, but that seemed a ball of 
black flame. " How are you, Phil ?" " Good morning, Shcrri- 
dan," greeted him from various parts of the room, and Gar- 
field, turning to me, said : " Mr. , this is General Sherridan." 

It was the youngest corps commander in the army — the man 
who, when McCook was routed, stood so like a wall at Stone 
River ; who led the desperate assault on Mission Ridge, and has 
recently made the brilliant cavalry campaign in Virginia. 



A DAY WITH ROSECEANS. 209 

"Do you remember Pope's thirty thousand muskets and ten 
thousand prisoners ?" asked a young officer near me. 

" Yes, very well," I replied. 

"I took the muskets, and Sherridan took the men. How- 
many were there, Sherridan ?" 

" I don't remember," answered the quiet general. 

" Well, I remember the muskets ; they counted nine hun- 
dred and thirty — not one more or less." 

" I was with Pope at the second battle of Booneville," said 
another general, " when Sherrida'^i rode up and reported sixty- 
five prisoners. 'Why don't you say five hundred ?' said Pope. 
'Because there are only sixty-five,' said Sherridan. 'There 
ought to be five hundred — call them five hundred, any way,' 
said Pope; and five hundred they were — but not in S-herridans 
report." 

A general laugh followed, but the quiet hero said nothing, 
and, in all I saw of him afterwards, I never heard him speak 
disparagingly of any one. 

" You got through at last, Sir," just then said a voice at my 
elbow. Turning round, I saw a thin, spare man, with bushy, 
gray hair, and about the keenest eye I ever saw, looking 
in at the window. He was dressed in citizen's clothes, and 
had under his arm a paper box filled with letters. 

"Oh, yes," I replied, "I got through. But where have I 
met you, Sir?" 

"Probably nowhere, but I know you," he replied, smiling; 
"you see I have to look after suspicious new-comers." 

There was a general laugh at my expense, and Stanley, 
glancing at the box of letters, said to the civilian : 

" Robbing the mails again, eh, Colonel ?" 



210 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

*' Yes, bagged two thousand dollars this morning ;" and, ad- 
dressing me, he added : " Some of your New York gift-book 
and bogus-jewelry concerns, tempt our boys to waste money 
on their worthless trash. I head them off by watching 
the mails. I've stopped seventeen thousand dollars within a 
fortnight — sent it back to the boys with a little good advice, 
gratis." 

" You deserve the thanks of every soldier's wife and mother 
in the country," I said warmly. 

But he has not received ev6n their thanks, and his great ser- 
vices have had the poorest possible recognition from the Gov 
ernment. It was " Colonel " Truesdail who organized the 
admirable spy-system of the Cumberland army, which gave 
Rosecrans such perfect information of the movements of the 
enemy. 

Just then the inner door opened, and McCook, looking for 
all the world as if he had the universe on his shoulders, and 
found it decidedly heavy, passed through the apartment, and 
soon Rosecrans and Crittenden appeared, and we went in to 
lunch. 

At Stone River, during the second day's fight, a young 
cavalry officer rode up to General Thomas for orders. " Re- 
port to Morton — at the front," said the General, and shouting 
to his men, the young man dashed on to where the battle was 
raging hotly. Morton was not there. On he went again 
to where Palmer was rolling back the red waves on the left, 
but — Morton was not there. On again he went, through the 
thick smoke and the hurtling fire, to where Hazen was reaping 
a harvest of death on that terrible " half-acre ;" but — Morton 
was not there. " Where is Morton ?" he cried. " At the 



A DAT WITH KOSECKANS. 211 

front !" came back from out the smoke, and again be rode on 
— rode ou past the " Burnt House" — past wbere Rosecrans 
sat like a statue amid a bail.storm of fire — past wbere a reeking 
funeral pile marked tbe outer line of intrencbments — on to tbe 
cannon-ploughed, death-strewn cotton-field! "Is be mad? 
Call him back ! Call him back !" shouted the General, but tbe 
bugle was drowned in tbe awful uproar, and still he rode on- 
ward. Amazed tbe rebel gunners stood at their pieces, but 
straight at them he rode with his handful of men. " I say, 
Rebs," he shouted, "where is Morton?" "Gone where you 
are going," they answered, and tbe cannon echoed " Gone," and 
he went — back again, not a man wounded. 

That young officer — Lieutenant Kelley, 4th U. S. Cavalry — 
and the men who rode in that terrible ride, escorted us out to 
Sherridan's. 

As we entered the forest encircling the town, Garfield broke 
out with Hosea Bigelow's poem : 

"I du believe in Freedom's cause," 

and if tbe " down-east poet" would have any appreciation of 
his own lines, be should hear them in some such grand old woods, 
tbe words echoed back from the great spreading trees, and set 
to the music of a hundred horse's heels. He bad scarcely 
ended, when the General began to tell bow : 

" Zekle crep' up, quite unbeknown, 
An' peeked in thru the winder ; 
"While there sot Huldy all alone, 
'ith no one nij^h to bender." 

" What would you give to have written that ?" he said, as 
he finished the recitation. 



212 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" All the castles I ever built in the clouds," I replied. 

" So would I. You know what Wolfe said before his great 
battle ?" 

" That he would rather have written Gray's Elegy than 
take Quebec. Would you have said that before Stone 
River ?" 

He hesitated a moment, and then answered : " No ; for now 
we need victoiios more than poems." 

"As I came down, I saw the battle-field — what were your 
sensations when under fire so constantly all of that day ?" 

" I had no sensations. I was absorbed in planning how 
to beat them." 

Just then an opening in the trees showed us several thousand 
men under review, in a field off at the left. 

" It is Negley's division. Let us ride over there, General," 
said Garfield. 

We turned our hoi'ses and galloped oft' through the forest. 
The underbrush was cleared away, and a rich sward of " blue 
grass" covered the ground, but every here and there a great 
tree felled for the fortifications, obstructed our way. One of 
these trunks — eighty feet long and nearly ten feet thick at the 
base — lay directly across our path. Garfield and I, who rode 
on either side of the General, reined our horses around its two 
ends, and the rest of the party divided and followed us, but 
Rosecrans spurred " Toby" directly at the trunk, and cleared it 
at a bound. 

" Well done. General," I shouted ; " you fire straight at the 
mark." 

" It's the surest way to hit it," he replied, smiling. 

Clearing a low fence into a cotton field, we soon " turned" a 



A DAY WITH ROSECRANS. 213 

small hill, and were abreast of the division. As the well-known 
"grav" came in sight, the soldiers set up a loud shout, and un- 
covering his head, the General rode down the lines. Halting 
every now and then he spoke to the men. " You keep your- 
self tidy, Patrick. You can fight," he said to one. "■ I kin 
fight for ye, Giniral, be Jabers." "Leave out the hard words, 
my man. Brave men never swear." Passing before a com- 
pany of Tennesseans, he said : " You've had mountain air ; 
there's not a pale face among you." " Ye've guv'n us exercise, 
Gen'ral. Guv us more on it," was the answer. " I'll give you 
enough — never fear." To a mere boy, he said : " I saw you 
at Stone River — you fought like a man." " They've made a 
man of me, sir," said the soldier, pointing to the stripes on his 
arm. "I saw ye thar, Gen'ral," said another. "My old 
'ooman prayed fur ye, an' thet's the how ye 'scaped." " Tell 
her for me, God bless her," said Rosccrans as he rode on. 

And so we went down the lines, the General halting every 
few minutes to say some free word to the soldiers, and greeted, 
at every step, with cheers and "God bless yous." That ride 
showed me why his men worship him. 

As we. reined our horses again towards the woods, he said to 
me: "Do you see that young man yonder?" " Tliat quiet, 
modest looking Brigadier?" I asked. "Yes. It's Carlin. At 
Stone River he sat his horse as coolly as he does now." 

At Sherridan's I saw Rosecrans unbent. The bow which is 
always strung loses its power : so workers, such as he, wear out 
by constant working. The hour of relaxation is the time to 
learn any man, and then I tried to study him. Sherridan had 
invented a game he called "Dutch .Ten-Pins." On the lawn 
in front of his quarters, between two immense elms, he had 



214 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

suspended a long rope, and to the end of it attached a 
small cannon-ball. On the ground, midway between these 
trees, was a square board which held the ten-pins. The game 
lay in throwing the ball so that it would miss the pins in going 
out, and strike them in coming back. To do this, a peculiar 
twist had to be given to the rope by bending the wrist, and it 
seemed almost impossible to avoid hitting the pins on the 
direct throw. Three "throws" were "a game," and only 
thirty " strokes" could be made. Sherridan, by much practice, 
had become expert at the play, and could make, pretty regu- 
larly, twenty " strokes," but a novice did well it' he made ten. 
He soon challenged Rosecrans, and the dozen officers with 
him, to enter the lists. Sherridan opened the play, cleared 
the board twice, and missed it altogether the third throw. 
" Twenty," cried the " scorer," and another player took his 
place. He did indifferently well. Others followed with more 
or less success, though none came up to Sherridan's " score." 

" Now for the General," shouted " the Major," laughing, as 
Rosecrans took his place. " He'll score thirty, sure." 

" Don't laugh till you win, my boy," answered the General, 
with his peculiar smile. 

Calculating deliberately the motion of the ball, he let it go. 
Every pin fell, on the direct throw, and a general laugh fol- 
lowed. Not at all disconcerted, he tried again and again, till 
he had played three or four " games," with scarcely better suc- 
cess. Amid the mock congratulations of the whole assemblage 
he at last sat down, and Garfield entered the lists. " It's 
nothing but mathematics," said Garfield ; " you only need an 
eye and a hand," and caTelessly throwing the ball, he cleared 
the board and scored twentv-three ! 



A DAY WITH KOBECKANS. 215 

*' You can't do that again." 

" I'll try," answered tlie modest Brigadier, and he did do it, 
several times in succession. 

" I can do better than that,''' said Rosecrans, again taking 
the ball. A shout of derision followed the boast, but he quietly 
set himself to work, and, half a dozen times in succession, made 
from twenty -five to thirty " strokes." As he resumed his seat, 
I said to him : 

" That leap over the tree, and the way you've won this game, 
have shown me what made you conquer at Stone River." 

" What was it?" he asked, smiling. 

" Directness — firing straight at the mark — and a kind of per- 
sistence which makes you hold on till you succeed." And 
those two qualities, with untiring work, have made him the 
great man and the great general that he is. 

For hours after dinner, and far into the night, the General 
was as intensely occupied as during the morning. Despatches 
were read, letters dictated, orders given, visitors received, and 
grave questions disposed of, with a celerity that taxed his aides 
to the utmost, and made the head of a looker-on almost swim 
with excitement. " Give me young men for work," he said, 
glancing at " the Major" — his senior aide, Frank S. Bond, of 
Cincinnati — " these sandy-haired fellows, who can drive a quill 
like lightning." 

" But they soon wear out," I answered, " and even dark- 
haired men couldn't long stand the work you give them." 

" Well, they do well while they last, and you know we live 
in deeds, not years." 

At the battle of luka, an officer of General Ord's staflf, seeing 
a division of rebels about to flank one of our rcQ-iments, rode 



216 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

up and lufonned Rosecrans of the danger. " Ride on and 
warn Stanley, at once," said the General. An acre on fire, and 
showered with bullets, lay between them and the menaced 
troops. The officer looked at it, and said : " General, I have a 
wife and children." 

" You knew that when you came here," said the General, 
coolly. 

" I'll go, sir," was the only answer. 

" Stay a moment. We must make sure of this," and hastily 
writing some despatches, the General called three of his order- 
lies. Giving a despatch to each, he said to the officer : " Now 
go." He started, and at intervals of about fifty yards, bearing 
a similar message, the orderlies followed. The officer ran the 
fiery gauntlet, and, his clothes pierced with bullets, and his 
horse reeling from a mortal wound, reached Stanley, — the 
orderlies found their graves on that acre of fire ! 

To that oiiicer. Lieutenant Colonel Arthur C. Ducat, In- 
spector-General of the Cumberland army, and General Thomas, 
I was, about midnight of the day I am describing, illustrating 
the supefior advantages of slavery as a bleaching process, when 
Rosecrans approached, and laying his hand on General Thomas's 
chair, said : 

" Speaking of white blacks, reminds me of two who came 
within the lines a few weeks ago. They were as white as I am 
— a little boy and girl, belonging to ' General' Chambers, a rich 
planter and a ' strong Union man,' living some twenty miles from 
here. Chambers called on me the other day, and feeling it my 
duty to be courteous to ' our friends,' I asked him to dinner. 
Every moment I expected he would broach the subject of his 
slaves, but he left without saying a word about them. How- 



A DAY WITH KOSECRANS, . 217 

ever, he came back in a few days. I invited him again to din- 
ner, and he declined, but said : 

" Gen'ral, some on ray property has come inter j'er lines. 
I know'd they was har when I seed yer afore. I was telled 
ye'd yercd they wus my children, — ye sees they's as white as I 
is — an' I felt sort o' delicate like 'bout axin' yer fur 'em till I 
could show, fur sartin, they wasn't. They is my nevye's — 
ycre's the papers ter prove it." 

" I don't see what difference it makes whether they are yo^ir 
children or your nephew's," I answered. •' But I suppose" 
you've come to claim them ?" 

"That is what I'se come for, Gen'ral — I s'pose ye'll guv 
'em up ?" 

" Of course," I replied; " we are not ncgro-stealers. Every 
man shall have his rights within my lines." 

" I am obleeged ter yc: — much obleeged ter ye, Gen'ral," he 
said, showing strong symptoms of hugging me. " I war telled 
ye wus a blasted ab'lisli^oner, an' wudn't guv 'em wp, an' I'm 
right glad ye does, fur it'll do a heap uv good ; it'll cunciiiate 
the loyal peeple round yere, mightly. Whar is they, Gen'ral ?" 

" I don't knosv — Major Bond can tell you." 

" Won't it 'quire an order frum ye ter git 'em, Gen'ral ?" 

*' Oh, no ; you only need to ask tliem to go — slavery is so 
benign a thing that even white children must love it." 

"An' karn't I hev 'em 'less they'll go peacerbly," he ex- 
claimed, in consternation. 

" Of course not ; you must use no force. We neither steal 
negroes nor catch them." 

"With a big flea in his ear, he left, no doubt cursing me for 
a * blasted ab'lishioner.'" 
10 



218 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

To appreciate this action, the reader needs to remember that 
our Government wasthen pursuing the "conciliatory policy," and 
that nearly every department commander was returning- fugi- 
tives. Rosecrans sent the children North, and, I am told, is 
now having them educated at his own expense. 

The clock had struck one when I rose, and General Thomas 
said to me : " Come to .my quarters to-morrow ; I want to in- 
troduce you to one or two of the prominent Union men of the 
district." 

I remained with Rosecrans nearly a month, and in that period 
saw much of him, meeting him every day. During all of that 
time, I saw nothing of the brandy-drinking or opium-eating 
with which his enemies have charged him — and I should have 
seen it, had it existed. In all our intei'course, I found him as 
earnest a patriot, as honest a man, as true and Christian a gentle- 
man as, I think, ever lived ; and I should be false to my con- 
victions of right if I omitted to say, that those who, at such a 
time as this, have been instrumental in burying his great mili- 
tary talents in a mere civil employment, have done immense 
wrong to the country. It is not onr most excellent President 
who has done this. He, I know, thinks of Rosecrans as I do. 
Nor was he removed because of tlie repulse at Chickamauga. 
The Government has exonerated him from blame iu that atfair ; 
and those best informed have told me that, had the information 
on which he acted been correct, we should have lost Ten- 
nessee and Kentucky, had he done differently froni what he 
did. Time is said to take its revenges ; it also bestows its re- 
wards. It will reward Rosecrans, by placing his name among 
those of the best and truest men in our history. 



A RAY WITH KOSKCEAKS. 219 



CHAPTER XVII. 

VIEWS OF SOUTHERN MEN. 

x\.T General Thomas's quarters, on the following clay, I met 
several leading men of the district, who had " snftered the loss 
of all things" rather than deny the Union. One of them — 
Colonel Wisner, of the County of Bedford — was the only mem- 
ber of the Tennessee Legislature who, to the very end, voted 
against the schemes of the secessionists. He had the moral 
courage, at the time of the June election, to canvass his district 
in the face of a thousand rebel bayonets. The soldiers often 
ttempted to break up the meetings, but the unarmed people 
gathered around the stands, kept off the soldiery, and bade 
him "go on." The I'esult was, a large majoiity of the votes 
of his county were cast against " separation." . He was or- 
dered away by the Confederate authorities, but refused to go, 
and only went at last on being taken 'from his bed by a squad 
of soldiers. He was bound to a horse — he refused to mount, 
or to keep mounted — aail driven in that plight within our 
lines. 

He said to me : " The Southern people are at heart loyal to 
liberty. They think they are fighting for it. Disabuse them 
of the error, and all of them will be Union men. Give me 
free speecli, and in six months I will revolutionize one-half of 
tills State. Bosson will do the other half." 

" But the Emancipation proclamation must stand. Will the 
masses come cordially back if the blacks arc freed?" 



220 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" Tliey will, unless you attempt to give the slayes suffrage. 
If you do that, the poor whites will fight until not a man is 
left. They think themselves superior — they are superior to the 
negroes, and they will never consent to blacks making laws 
for whites." 

" But the abolitionists," I said, laughing, " have hit upon a 
plan for bleaching the blacks — making good white men of 
them." 

" That is absurd. You know the black does not seek the 
white, but the white the black. Free the negro, give him 
control of his own person, and amalgamation will totally 
cease." 

*' I think so ; and that, to mc, is one of the strongest rea- 
sons for abolishing slavery. But if the blacks are all emanci- 
pated, what state of things will follow ?" 

" There would be no change at first. The South needs 
labor, and the blacks would give it. Gradually the more en- 
terprising and ambitious w^onld emigrate to some new territory,, 
and found a community of their own, like the Mormons. The 
less enterprising would stay here, and finally die out." 

" Why die out ?" 

"Because they cannot compete with the white man.* 

Remove the odium attached to white labor — abolishing 

slavery will do it — and you would call out the energies of 

the poor whites. One of them would earn a dollar, where a 

negro would earn fifty cents. The consequence would be, 

* This is a new view for a Southern man. The slaveocracy has always 
insisted that .white labor cannot compete with black, in a hot climate. 
Observation has satisfied me that the contrary is true. The severest 
work at the South, ditching and clearinjj swamp lands, has always been 
done by whites. 



VIEWS OF SOUTHERN MEN. 221 

poverty and starvation for the negroes ; and those that stayed 
here would in time die out." 

" Some of our wisest statesmen advocate black-suffrage as a 
means of insuring a Union strength at the South. What do 
you think of it«" 

" That it would not be a strength, but a weakness. The 
black are ignorant, docile, and accustomed to being led. Their 
votes would be controlled by a few demagogues, and all over 
the South, you would have the state of things you now see in 

New York city." 

Another of these gentlemen — Mr. Bosson, of White County, 
who before the war was largely identified with the railway 
interests of the State, and a prominent actor in its politics, gave 
me so interesting an account of the rise of the secession move- 
ment in Tennessee, that 1 am tempted to repeat it. llis views 
of the real feeling of the masses, and of what should be done 
with them and their leaders, are entitled to great respect, for 
he is largely experienced In public affairs, and thoroughly 
acquainted with all classes of the Southern people. 

"During the Presidential canvass of 1860," he said, "I 
clearly saw that the purpose of the Secessionists was to pre- 
cipitate the South into rebellion. I communicated my im- 
Dressions to our Bell and Everett elector, and advised him to 
so conduct the discussion as to arouse the people to the coming 
issue. The month of November came, and with it the action 
of the South Carolina Legislature, initiating the Rebellion. 
Our legislature was then in session, and under the guidance of 
Governor Harris, and other leading advocates of Southern 
rights, its proceedings assumed a direction that tended to 
strengthen the purpose of the Secessionists. When I perceived 



222 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

this, witli a view to awaken the people, and prepare them for 
the g cat issue, I inaugurated a series of meetings in the 
counties along the mountains. They were largely attended, 
and the people seemed unaniuious for the Union. 

"On the third of January, 186], the legislature reported and 
passed a resolution authorizing a vote to be taken in the 
month of February following. The issue : ' For a Convention 
or against it,' and, ' For delegates to the Convention.' 

" The election was held, and resulted, throughout the State, in 
a large majority against a convention, and "a still larger major- 
ity — 65,000 — for the Union candidates to the 'convention. 
In the county of White — where I resided — out of sixteen 
hundred votes, the secessionists polled only a hundred and 
twenty-nine; and there. Judge Gardenhire and Colonel Colms, 
both popular speakers, took the ' stump,' and spoke for Sep- 
aration ; and hand-bills and circulars, breathing the bad spirit 
of secession, were widely scattered. The people were rejoiced 
at the result, and when I announced the vote at our precinct, 
they unanimously resolved never to support a man for any 
civil oftlce who that day had voted for a disunion candidate. 
The Secessionists were rebuked, and, receding from the high 
ground they had taken, proposed ' Neutrality' as the true 
policy. 

" Fort Sumter surrendered, and the call for seventy-five 
thousand men gave encouragement to the leading disunionists. 
They at once sounded the alarm that the Government meant to 
coerce the South, The Legislature was immediately convened, 
and on the recommendation of Governor Harris, it resolved to 
place the forces of the State on a war footing, authorized 
the raising of volunteers for State defence, and made large 



VIEWS OF SOUTH EBN MEN. 



223 



appropriations for tliat purpose. It also matured a plan, and 
passed a law f<_>r an election in the following June, to vote 
Separation or no Separation,' ' Representation or no Repre- 
sentation.' 

" Then, all over the State, allured by the novelty of the enter- 
prise, the young men responded to the heated declamation of 
the secession speakers, and with fife and drum, the demagogues 
accomplished what they could not have done with argument. 
No speaker of loyal proclivities was allowed to participate in 
the discussions. At each meeting squads of armed volun- 
teers, with drums beating and flags flying, escorted the speakers 
and overav/ed the loyal voters. 

" Election day — the 8th of June — arrived, and threats were 
widely made that no black republican would be permitted to I" 
approach the polls. T regarded the action of the Legislature 
as conti-ary to the Constitution, but I resolved to vote. On the 
morning of the election, w ith four gentlemen who thought as 
I did, I went to the precinct. Soldiers w'ere within and 
around the building, and no Union man had dared to enter; 
but we quietly elbowed our way through the crowd, wrote our 
ballots in the sight of the multitude, and gave our votes to the 
officer. A profound silence prevailed as our votes were read, 
and when we turned and looked on the secession crew, not a 
word was spoken, not a gesture made. They were cowed by 
five honest men ! On my return, the meeting with my wife I 
and children was an affecting one. They had not expected to 
see me again alive. 

*' The vote in the State at the February election was 155,000, 
and the Union majority G5,000. In June, the total vote was 
only 115,000, and the separation and representation majority 



224 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

about 36,000. The vote fell short of the vote in February 
40,000. 

" Timidity overcame loyal men, and those disposed to be loyal, 
and they stayed at home ; besides, all were told that if they sup- 
ported ' No Separation,' they would vote a halter to the necks 
of their own and their neighbors' sons, who had volunteered. 
Could we have had free speech, w^e might have rallied the 
moral strength of the loyal, and defeated * Separation ;' but 
our leaders had deserted the Union : Brown, Bell, Ewing, 
and others were either committed to the rebel enterprise, or 
alarmed into acquiescence by the merely apparent popularity 
of tlie secession .movement. The people did not want separ- 
ation. They were content with their political condition ; but, 
abandoned by their leaders, appealed to by a variety of bad in- 
fluences, and surrounded by gji armed mob — headed by the 
Governor of the State — they yielded to the sweeping storm. 
Wherever there was free discussion, the Union was sustained. 
In Bedford County, where Colonels Wisner and Cooper boldly 
discussed the question, the people voted against separation. 
And so it was in that portion of Smith County which was 
canvassed by Dr. Gordon and W. B. Stokes ; and so, if we 
could have had free speech, would it have been all over the 
State. The action of East Tennessee proves this. 

"The first AVednesday in August was our Gubernatorial 
election. The aggregate vote then was 116,000 — Harris beat- 
ing Polk 33,000, and the ballots at this election fell short of 
February, 39,000 votes. 

"Then I saw the storm that was coming, and remained at my 
home in White County, to gather up my scattered moans, and 
prepare for the inevitable and terrible future. General Buell 



VIEWS OF SOUTDERN MEN. 225 

readied Nashville in May, 1862. As soon as I heard of it I 
passed the rebel pickets iu the night, to look once more on the 
glorious flag of raj^ country. I staj'cd at Nashville till Buell 
advanced to the Tennessee River, and then returned home, de- 
fying the threats of my rebel neighbors. In July, Forrest 
encamped on my plantation, and there planned the capture of 
Murfreesboro. He returned there with his prisoners and plun- 
der, cannons, guns, horses and mules, and left his sick at 
my house. I was known to him and his officers as a Union 
man, but they treated me with respect. I showed them the 
commission of mv' father, signed by John ILincock, and they 
admitted I could not be false to his principles. I found many 
Union men in the rebel regiments. They would come to me 
and say they loved me, because I dared to stand up for the old 
flag. 

" Forrest took my stock, corn, hay, and oats, and made requi- 
sition on me for bread and meat, offering pay in Conffderate 
money. I refused to take it, telling him it was tainted with 
treason. I then became the object of peisecution. My letters 
liad been opened tand examined long before; but then I was 
waited on by a self constituted committee, who told me they 
were my friends, and used many arguments to make me a rebel. 
The South, they said, was sure to come gloriously out of the 
contest, when Tennessee and the border States would be 
the New England of the Confederacy, and my large water- 
power would become immensely valuable. I answered that 
my loyalty was not in the market, and consequently could not 
be bought. This exasperated them, and they said I must im- 
mediately leave the county — that if I went at once, no personal 
harm should come to mo. I replied, that I should leave when 
10* 



226 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

convenient — not before ; that the property about me was my 
own — earned by my own industry ; but I would abandon it all 
rather than abandon the Union. Then they told me that they 
would not be responsible for my personal safety, and left — I 
telling them, as they went away, that though my hair was 
gray, I could defend myself.* 

"liebel soldiers, in citizens' clothes, then waylaid and at- 
tempted to shoot me, and, at last, yielding to the entreaties of 
my wife, I fled at night, and joined our good General (Thomas, 
who was then present) at McMinnville. I went with him to 
Nashville, and remained there till after the battle of Stone 
Eiver, when I joined him again at Murfreesboro. My wife 
said to me, when I left her: ' I have nothing to give to the 
Union but you. I give you^ and God will accept the sacrifice' 
(and here the cool, collected man paused, and while every 
one was silent, wept). She and the children are still 
within the Rebel lines. My plantation and mills are occupied 
by rebel soldiers, and I have turned my 'back upon a home 
that, before the rebellion, was one of peace and plenty — and I 
say to you. Sir, the rebels are more wickefl, more malicious, 
and more dangerous than any foreign enemy could be. We 
must exterminate the leaders wholly. The poor, simple people 
have been misled : and, mortified and humiliated, they would, 
the most of them, now come back to their allegiance, and be- 
come again good citizens. We must deal with them gently, 
but the leaders — every man who has taken a prominent part in 
promoting the rebellion — must be expatriated — placed where he 

* This is the language of every Southern Union man. If the reader 
would have his Unionism invigorated, he should make the acquaintance 
of some of tliosc men. 



VIEWS OF SOUTUEEN MEN. 227 

can no longer deceive the people. The 2}coj)le of Tennessee 
never desired the destruction of the National Government. 
They did not appro'-iate its blessings till they lost them ; but 
now, in mortification and astonishment, they have awakened to 
its blessings, and see the ruin they have caused. Remove the 
leaders, and the masses will joyfully return to obedience. I 
hold the perpetuation of the Union above all other considera- 
tions. I have sacrificed every thing for it, and I have no ill--wiU 
against those who would destroy it, but I counsel the removal 
of every impediment that stands in the way of re-establishing its 
power and authority. It cannot be expected that all the 
Union men in the slave States will approve of the destruction 
of slavery — but the number who will not is small. It must be 
destroyed. 

" / say, if slavery, property, or persons stand in the way of 
restoring the Union, remove them all. Save the life of the 
Nation. Preserve that, whatever else is lost. 

" To a careful observer, who has resided long in the South, 
the truth is apparent that slavery has moulded all its manners, 
customs, and interests, its social, moral, and religious institutions. 
Our people are not a reading people ; few books or newspapers 
are seen among them, and their educational interests have be6n 
shamefully neglected ; therefore, the non-slaveholders have 
yielded a ready obedience to the slaveholders, who have con- 
trolled all legislative action. They have controlled every thing, 
and therefore we must crush them. Crush them as well as 
slavery, for until we do that, we can have no lasting peace." 

These are the words of a loyal Southerner. I have met 
many of them, b-ut I never met one who did not feel and talk 
as he did. They advocate no halfway measures : they would 



228 DOWN ijsr Tennessee. 

strike at the root of tlie tree. They know that this is a life and 
death struggle between two great principles; between Democra- 
cy and Aristocracy ; between a Republic and a Despotism ; and 
that one or the other must perish. Would to God that the 
loyal men of the North realized this as they do. If they did, 
Copperheads and peace-men would now be things of history. 



A PiajJKCTED INSUERECTION. 229 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

A PROJECTED INSURRECTION. 

I PASSED, as I have said, several weeks at Mnrfrcesboro, and 
I could fill a volume with what I saw and heard, but the fear 
of comproniising public interests holds my pen. Some day, 
when " this cruel war is over," I may be at liberty to write 
what I know. Then, if not before, the American people 
will say to Rosecrans : " Well done, good and faithful ser- 
vant." 

But now, when the rebels are raising the blacl^flag, and 
butchering our troops, black and white, in a spirit unknown 
to even savage war&re, there is one thing which should be 
told. 

One day, as I was sitting alone with Rosecrans, an aide 
handed hiin a letter. He opened it, ceased doing half a dozen 
other things, and became at once absorbed in its contents. 
He re-read it, and then, handing it to me, said : "Read that. 
Tell me what you think of it." I read it. Its outside indi- 
cated it had come from " over Jordan," and had " a hard road to 
travel," but its inside startled me. It was written in a round, 
unpractised hand, and though badly spelled, showed its author 
familiar with good Southern English. Its date was May 18th, 
1803, and it began thus: 

"General: — Apian has been adopted for a simultaneous 
movement or risinc: to sever the rebel communications through- 



230 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

ont the whole South, which is now disclosed to some general 
in each military department in the Secesh States, iu order that 
they may act in concert, and thus insure us success. 

" The plan is for the blacks to make a concerted and simul- 
taneous rising, on the night of the first of August next, over 
the whole States in rebellion. To arm themselves with any and 
every kind of weapon that may come to hand, and commence 
operations by burning all railroad and county bridges, tear- 
ing up all railroad tracks, and cutting and destroying telegraph 
wires, — and when this is done take to the woods, the swamps, 
'or the mountains, whence they may emerge, as occasions may 
offer, for provisions or for further depredations. No blood is 
to be shed except in self-defence. 

" The corn will be in roasting ear about the first of August, 
and upon*this, and by foraging on the farms at night, we can 
subsist. Concerted movement at the time named would be suc- 
cessful, and the rebellion be brought suddenly to an end." 

The letter went on with some details which I cannot repeat, 
and ended thus : 

" The plan will be simultaneous over the whole South, and 
yet few of all engaged will know its whole extent. Please 
■write '1' and 'approved,' and send by the bearer, that we 
may know you are with us. 

"Be assured, General, that a copy of this letter has been sent 
to every military department in the rebel States, that the time 
of the movement may thus be general over the entire South." 

I was re-reading the letter when the General again said: 
"What do you think of it?" 

" It would end the rebellion. It taps the great negro organ- 
ization, of which I speak in ' Among the Pines,' and, co- 



A PKOJECTED INSUKKECTION. 231 

operated with by our forces, would certainly succeed, but — the 
South would run with blood." 

" Innocent blood ! Women and children !" 

" Yes, women and children. If you let the blacts loose, 
they will rush into carnage like horses into a burning barn. 
St. Domingo will be multiplied by a million." 

" But he says no blood is to be shed except in self-defence." 

" He says so, and the leaders may mean so, but they cannot 
restrain the rabble. Every slave has some real or fancied 
wrong, and he would take such a time to avenge it." 

" Well, I must talk with Garfield. Come, go with me." 

We crossed the street to Garfield's lodgings, and found him 
bolstered up in bed, quite sick of a fever. The General sat 
down at the foot of his bed, and handed him the letter. Garfield 
read it over carefully, and then laying it down, said : 

" It will never do, General. We don't want to whip by such 
means. If the slaves, of their own accord, rise and assert their 
original right to themselves, that will be their own affair; but 
we can have no complicity with them without outraging the 
moral sense of the civilized world." 

" I knew you'd say so ; but he speaks of other department 
commanders — may they not come into it?" 

" Yes, they may, and that should be looked to. Send this 
letter to , and let him head off ' the moveniont.' " 

It was not thought prudent to intrust the letter to the 
mails; nor with the railway, infested with guerillas, was it a safe 
document to carry about the person. A short shrift and a long 
rope might have been the consequence of its being found on 
a traveller. So, ripping open the top of my boot, I stowed it 
snugly away in the lining, and took it North. On 



232 DOWN IN TENNESSEE, 

the 4tli of June following, Garfield wrote me that he had just 
heard from the writer of the letter; that five out of our nine 
department commanders had come into the project, and, sub- 
sequently, that another general had also promised it liis sup- 
port. 

But I can say no more. All the world knows that the insur- 
rection did not take place. The outbreaks in September, 
among the blacks of Georgia and Alabama, were only parts 
of the plan, the work of subordinate leaders, who, maddened 
at the miscarriage of the grand scheme, determined to carry out 
their own share of the programme at all hazards. It was a 
gigantic project, and the trains were all laid, the matches all 
lighted, and two centuries of cruel wrong were about to be 
avenged in a night, when a white man said to the negro : " You 
will slaughter friends and enemies. You will wade knee deep 
in innocent blood ; God cannot be with you in midnight 
massacre!" A white man said that, and the uplifted torch fell 
from the negro's hand ; and saying : " I will 'bide my time ; I 
will leave vengeance to God," he went back to his toil and his 
stripes. 

The time has not come to write the history of this, and I 
liave said what I have, only to show that while Southern men 
were starving our prisoners, butchering our wounded, and dese- 
crating our dead, we were supplicating the destroying angel to 
pass over their homes, and save their wives and little ones from 
a swift destruction. In the day when " He maketh inquisition 
for blood," on whose garments, my Southern brother,. think you, 
will He find the stain? 

When I parted with Rosecrans, he took my hand and said 
to me : " Good-by, my friend. Remember that tliose who do 



COLONEL JAMES F. JAQUESS. 233 



CHAPTER XIX. 

COLONEL JAMES F. JAQUESS. 

One morning, not many days after the events recorded in the 
last chapter, General Rosecrans handed me another letter, say- 
ing, as he did so, " Here is an application from one of my 
officers for a furlough. It explains itself. I have to be at the 
front all day, and I wish you would stay and see him. If you 
think well of it, I will telegraph the Department for the fur- 
lough. The Colonel was a prominent member of the Western 
Methodist Church, and, though a clergyman, is one of my best 
and bravest officers. You will he glad of his acquaintance." 

I cheerfully assented to the request, and an orderly was at 
once dispatched to his camp for the officer. Meanwhile, I read 
the application. It was as follows : 

"Head-Quarters, 73d Kegiment Illinois Infantry, 
Camp near Murfreesboro, 19tii May, 1863. 

*' General : — I feel it to be my duty to lay before you the 
following facts, considerations, and proposition i 

" Situated as we are, it is no matter of astonishment that the 
great eye of the world is intently fixed upon us. The truth is, 
we are intrusted with the dearest interests of humanity, with 
the solution of the grandest problem that ever inspired the 
hopes or engaged the attention of man. It is the problem of 
his capacity for self-government. And, if we fail, which we 
shall do most signally if we do not suppress this rebellion, 



23J: DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

man's emancipation from tyranny and oppression, and Imman 
liberty and self-government, are failures. 

" The (juestion that Heaven has called us to decide in blood, 
with the weapons of war, and amid the slaughter of the battle- 
field, is not one of a political character only. It is not simply 
a question of latitude and longitude ; it is, whether we are a 
Christian or a heathen people. 

" On both sides of Mason and Dixon's line we claim to be 
Christian men. We speak the same language, read the same 
Bible, and worship God with the same forms and ceremonies. 
We appoint days of fasting and prayer, and observe them with 
a zeal worthy of a Christian people, and, independently of 
man's design, these appointments often fall on the same days, 
North and South. Resolving to ' trust in God, but keep our 
powder dry,' we have risen up from our devotions, grasped 
again the weapons of death, and rushed into the thickest of the 
fight, without stopping to reflect that God has other means than 
the sword to subdue his enemies. 

'-' It is well known, that before the Southern States seceded, 
the Methodist Church in the United States was separated on 
the very questions which have since divided the nation. It is 
also known that 'the Methodist Episcopal Church, South,' was 
a leading element in the rebellion, and has been a prominent 
power in the prosecution of the war. 

" A considerable part of the territory occupied by ' the 
Methodist Episcopal Church. South,' at the time of the separa- 
tion, and up to a recent date, is now in possession of our armies. 
This has brought a large number of the ministers and people of 
that communion within our lines. Some of these persons were 
prominent in the movement that separated the Church, and 



COLONEL JAMES F. JAQUESS. 235 

were most bittei and uncompromising on tlie questions of differ- 
ence. 

" From tliese persons I liave learned personally the following 
facts, viz. : That they consider the rebellion has destroyed the 
' Methodist Church, South ;' that it has virtually abolished 
slavery, and obliterated the other prominent questions of differ- 
ence ; that they are sincerely desirous of returning to the ' Old 
Church ;' and that their brethren within the rebel lines are most 
heartily tired of the rebellion, and most ardently desire peace and 
the privilege of rcturniiigto theirallegiance toChurohand State, 
and will do so whenever they are assured of amnesty for the past. 

" My attention has been called to these fects, and to others of a 
like character, frequently of late ; and from these considerations 
— though not from these only, but because God has laid the 
duty upon me — I would submit to the proper authorities the 
following proposition, viz. : To r/o into the Southern Confederacy, 
and retur.n within nineti/ dai/s, ivith proposals of peace that 
will he acccptahle to otir Government. 

"I shall propose no compromise with traitors, but their im- 
mediate return to their allegiance to God and their country. It 
is no part of my business to discuss the probability or the pos- 
sibility of my accomplishing this work. I propose to do it in 
the name of the Lord, and to leave results with Ilim. 

"If He puts it into the hearts of my superiors to allow me 
to go, I shall be thankful ; if not, I have discharged my duty. 
" Your obedient servant, 
" (Signed) James F. Jaquess, 

" Col. CoimVg 73cZ Rerft III. Infty. 
*'To Brig.-General Garfield, Chief of Staff, 

'''■ Department of the Cumberland^ 



23G DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

A little more than an hour after the departure of the orderly, 
an erect, spare man, in the undress uniform of a colonel of 
infantry, entered the inner room of the General's quarters, where 
[ was seated. He seemed rather more than forty, and was a 
little above the medium height, with gray hair and beard, a 
high, broad, open forehead, and a thin, marked face, expressing 
great earnestness, strength, and benignity of character. lie 
came directly up to me, and, bowing rather stiffly, said : 

" Is this Mr. Kirke ?" 

*' That is a name I sometimes go by. You are Colonel Ja- 
quess. I am very glad to meet you," and I took his hand very 
cordially. 

" I am very glad to meet you," he replied, taking my hand, 
and the stiffness disappearing from his manner; "I feel that I 
kn^)W you. My little boy, only this morning, was speaking of 
you. We were riding through a piece of woods, when he said 
to me : ' Father, don't this remind you of "Among the Pines ?" ' 
He has the story all by heart." 

Was not that fame ? To be talked of by a Western boy in 
the wilds of Tennessee! Reader, I have my " weakness-es," as 
well as yourself. One of them was touched then — I confess it. 
The Colonel must have observed it, when I replied : 

" You gratify me. And you've brought your little boy out 
here to see the South as it is ?" 

"Yes, to see the reality of slavery. I want him to hate it 
as I do. But the General has sent me word he has referred my 
application to you." 

" He has asked me to hear what you have to say, and you 
know he is very busy." 

He then explained at some length, the objects he had in 



COLONEL JAMES F. JAQUESS. 237 

view in his proposed visit among tlx; Rebels. He had been, it 
appeared, for many years a prominent clergyman of the Western 
Methodist Church, and in friendly and familiat- intercourse with 
the leading divines of that communion in the South. lie was 
a member of the Nashville Convention, which divided that 
denomination into the " Church North" and the " Church 
South," and there did all in his power to defeat that unfortu- 
nate measure, which, undoubtedly, was the entering-wedge that 
rent the Union. On tlie breaking out of the war, he resigned 
the Presidency of Quincy College — leaving home, ease, and 
honors — to accept the chaplaincy of the Sixth Illinois Cavalry. 
After the battle of Pittsburg Landing, for brilliant services in 
that engagement — this is not his own account of himself — he 
was solicited by Governor Yates to raise and take command of 
a regiment. After repeated and urgent entreaty from the Cov- 
ernor, he consented to do so, and the result was, that within 
three weeks the Seventy-third Illinois Volunteers, known as the 
"Preachers' Regiment" — nearly every officer in it being a cler- 
gyman — was in the field. With this regiment he had served 
throughout the campaigns in Kentucky and Tennessee, and 
during that service had met many of his most active and zeal- 
ous opponents in the Nashville Convention. Without excep- 
tion, they all had told him they regarded slavery — the sole 
cause of their schism — as virtually abolished, and had expressed 
a wish to come back to the Church and the Union. Through 
them he had corresponded with a number of leading divines 
within the rebel lines, and they, too, had said they desired to 
return to their allegiance to the Church and the country. He 
thought the Methodist people of the South sympathized in 
this with their leaders, and lie added : 



233 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" I want to go to them — to ofter tbem the olive-branch — to 
tc!l tlicm, in the name of God and the country, that they will 
be welcome back." 

" The Methodist element, I know, Colonel," I replied, " is a 
strong element at the South ; but I fear the peace part of it is 
not strong enough to control the politicians. They, if I know 
them, care little about church or country. They have other 
views than submission. They mean to establish an independent 
government, at all hazards.^'' 

"I don't know what their views are. It is not my business 
to ask. I feel that God has laid upon me the duty to go to 
them, and go I must, unless my superiors forbid it." 

" Bu-t how will you go ? The Government, I feel sure, will give 
you neither authority nor protection. IIow, then, will you go?" 

" Openly ; in my uniform ; as the messenger of God." 

" I fear the rebels, like the people of old, will not recognize you 
as the Lord's messenger. They'll shoot or hang you as a spy." 

"■ It is not for me to ask what they will do ; I have only to go." 

"Well, I'll report what you say to the General, but I must 
be frank with you : if he asks my opinion, I shall advise him 
not to apply for the furlough. I have heard of you before, and 
your life, in my judgment, is altogether too valuable to be 
wasted on such an embassy." 

" That is not for you to judge. But I want more than a fur- 
lough ; I want an interview with Mr. Lincoln, to learn the terms 
on which he will give amnesty to the Rebels. You will say 
this to the General ?" 

" Yes ; and, as I told you, advise him to do nothing about it." 

At this the Colonel laughed, good-humoredly. 

"What amuses vou ?" Tasked, a lillle annuved. 



COLONEL JAMES F. JAQTJESS. 239 

"I was only tliinking liow little we know what we will do- 
Now, I shall not only go, but you will help me." 

" How do you know that V 

"You'll think nie superstitious if I tell you." 

" Not till I hear you." 

" Well ; when I called on General Garfield, yesterday, and 
opened iny project to him, he told me to put it in black and 
white, and he would submit it to the General. 1 went back to 
camp, and did so — wrote the letter you have in your hand. I 
had thought of this for several months, but, until I spoke ta 
General Garfield, had said nothing to any one about it. Tliis 
morning, however, just after sunrise, it occurred to me t»j talk 
it over with my Chaplain, who is iny intimate friend. Taking 
the letter with me, I went to his tent. He was just coming out 
of it ; and he said, as he saw me : 

"'Ah, Colonel, I was about to go and see you. I had a 
strange dream about you last night.' 

"'Did you? What was it?' 

" ' I dreamed that you were in a small room with JefF. 
Davis and two other gentlemen. I couldn't hear what was said, but 
you all seemed in very earnest convei'sation. AVhatdid it mean f 

" I then told him of my intention to visit Mr. Davis, and read 
him my letter. We both thought it very singular. About an. 
hour afterwards, as we were riding in tlie woods, my little son 
mentioned your name. At once it occuried to me that you 
were here — I did not hnow you were — and here to help me. 
Now, I have no faith in dreams — I believe God has ' sealed up 
the vision and the prophecy,' but the impression is strong upon 
me — stronger than my reason, I cannot shake it off" — that 1 
shall see Jeff. Davis, and yoa will helj) me." 



240 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

" Well, I 7nay. As you say, we cannot tell what we may 
do." 

I kept my word with him ; that is, I reported the interview to 
General Rosecrans, and recommended that he should do noth- 
ing about it. 

" Why not ?" asked the General. 

" Because he could accomplish nothing, and would throw his 
life away." 

" I know, if he talks peace to the people the leaders will hang 
him ; but he'll not do that. He'll go to the leaders themselves. 
The terms he will ofier may not be accepted, but it will 
strengthen our moral position to offer them. It will show the 
■world that we do not seek to subjugate the South. As to his life 
— he takes the right view about that, lie considers it already 
given to the country. If you had seen him at Stone liivcr, 
you'd think so. He is a hero — John Brown and the Chevalier 
Bayard rolled into one, and polished up with common sense 
and a knowledge of Greek, Latin, and the mathematics." 

That evening the General sent a telegram to Washington, 
stating the Colonel's objects, and asking for him a four months' 
furlough, and an interview with the President. Answer came 
in the morning, declining the requests, but asking a fuller 
explanation of Colonel Jaquess's purposes, by mail. The mes- 
sage was sent out to the Colonel's camp, and in a few hours he 
appeared at head-quarters. I happened to be with the "Gen- 
eral at the time. He was as busy as usual, but, as Jaquesa 
came in, looked up, and said : 

" Well, Colonel, you've got your sentence." 

" I don't think so. General. I never give up with one 
triaJ." ^ 



COLONEL JAMES F, JAQUESS. 241 

" That's riglit ; but what's to be done now ?" 

" Try again. Mr. must go to Washington. I've 

known Mr. Lincoln twenty years, but I might write him forty 
letters, and accomplish nothing. Writing won't do it. Mr. 
must go." 

This was spoken with such inimitable coolness, that I burst 
into a hearty laugh. 

" Yes," said the General, also laughing ; " that's it. You 
must go. You've been talking of going every day for a week — 
now you must go, and take Washington on your way. I've 
some other business I want attended to ; and you will do it — to 
oblige me." 

" Well, to oblige you, I will." And thus so much of the 
Colonel's presentiments were realized. About the rest, the 
reader will learn before this book is ended. 

I was to start the next afternoon, and in the morning Jaquess 
came into town to bid me good-by. As we parted, he took 
my hand, and said to me : 

" I know I shall go on this mission, but whether I shall 
return or not, is uncertain. But if I do not — if I go to the 
other side of Jordan before you, be sure I shall be the first man 
to take you by the hand when you get there.'' 

This sentence displays the whole character of the man. He 
"walks by faith, not by sight." To him the curtain which 
hides the other life from ours is already lifted — the two worlds 
are already one. 

A few days thereafter, with a bundle <5f " dispatches" in my 
pocket, I landed in Washington. Among these " dispatches" 
was one, of which the following is a copy : 
11 



242 DOWN IN TENNESSKE. 

" Head- Quarters, Department of the Cituberland, 
" MURFREESBOUO, Tenn., Miy 21, 1863. 

"To His Excellency, 

"The President of the United States: 

" The Rev. Dr. Jaqiiess, Colonel coininanding the 73d Illinois, 
— a man of character, — has submitted to me a letter proposing 
a personal mission to the South. After maturely weighing his 
plan, and considering well his character, I am decidedly of 
opinion that the pnblic interests will be promoted by permitting 
him to go as he proposes. 

" I do not anticipate the results that he seems to expect, but 
believe that a moral force will be generated by his mission, 
that will more than compensate us for his temporary absence 
from his regiment. 

"His letter is herein enclosed, and the bearer of this, Mr. 

, can fully explain Colonel Jaqiiess's plans and purposes. 

"Very respectfully, 
" W. S. RosECRANS, Major-General.'''' 

Enclosing this and the other pnpors in an envelope, I sent 
them, with a note, asking when I could have a private inter- 
view with the President, to the While House. 

" Come at half-past seven this evening, and PU be glad to see 
you," was the answer. 

I went at the appointed time, and my friend, Mr. Nicolay, 
eaid to me : 

" Mr. Lincoln is expecting you, but, just now, he's engaged 
with Reverd}' Johnson. Take a seat in my room, and he'll call 
you when he's ready." 

I did as I was bidden, and in about half an hour, the homely, 
humane face, with which everybody is familiar, looked in at 



COLONEL JAMES F. JAQUESS. 243 

the door, and a kind, benevolent voice said to mc : " Sorry to 
have kept you waiting. Come in. Do you know, I can't talk 
with you about that Jaqucss matter ?" 

" Why not, Sir?" I asked, following liim into the room. , 

" Because I happen to be President of the United States. 
We can make no overtures to the Rebels. If they want peace, 
all they have to do is to lay down their arms. But never mind 
about that ; you've been to Tennessee, and I want to see you. 
So sit down, and tell me all you know, — it won't take you 
long." 

It did take rae three whole hours; and, while I told it, I 
took advantage of my position as one of the "sovereigns," to 
find a little fault with the War Department. Mr. Lincoln 
heard me patiently, parrying my thrusts with a smile or a 
humorous story, and, when I concluded, said : " Well, it's lucky 
that you're ' one of the people.' You escape all this." 

" I know I do ; and that reminds me — I received a letter this 
morning, which I want to read to you. It's from a young 
woman you've heard of. Long ago she gave herself to the 
Lord, and that, you know, means the country ; so, she's a right 
to speak." 

Then I read the letter. It was as follows : 

'* You write that you are going to Washington, so, I know 
you'll see ' Old Abe.' Now, don't you find any fault with him. 
I know your impatient disposition — I know you think he ought 
to have done a good deal more than he has done. But, remem- 
ber, that he has had an untried way, difficulties all about him, 
conservatives advising one thing, radicals another, and all 
deceiving him. So, don't you find fault with him, but bid him 
'God speed.' Tell him that all good men and women, every- 



244 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

where, are with him — that they pray for him, and bless him 
for what he has done, and will yet do. One word, from a man 
he knows has nothing to ask for, may cheer him — cheer him 
more than you know — and don't you fail to say it. As you 
love truth and God, say it, fBr it is true, and you ought to 
say it." 

It would not be true if I said there was " a tear in his eye" 
when I read this. There was not. lie is not ''given to weep- 
ing," but his voice had a mellower, softer tone, as he asked: 

''Who is she?" 

I told him. 

"Tell her," he said, "that I thank her— that I hope God 
will bless her." 

That was a year ago ; but what that young woman then said 
might as well — might better — be said now by every man and 
woman in the country. 

As I rose to go, he asked me : 

"When do you go home?" 

" In the morning." 

" Can't you stay another day, and come to see me to-morrow 
evening? I want to think more of that Jaquess matter." 
• " Yes, Sir, I'll do so," and on the following evening I called 
on him again. 

Grant had then " watered his horse in the Mississippi." 
Vicksburg was beleaguered, but Pendleton was inside of it 
with twenty-five thousand men, and Johnston outside of it with 
thirty thousand. Grant had only thirty thousand. Re-enforce- 
ments had not then reached him. Might he not be crushed 
before they arrived ? 

The President was very anxious. He showed none of his 



COLONEL JAMES F. JAQUES8. 245 

usual humor and vivacity. Dispatch after dispatch came ia 
from the War Department, and he opened them, glanced at 
their signatures, and then, laying them down unread, said : 
" Only from Hooker ;" or, " Only from Burnside ;" or, " Only 
from Rosecrans. Nothing from Grant yet ! Why don't we 
hear from Grant ?" 

If the life of his own son had been quivering in the balance 
at Vicksburg, he could not have shown more anxiety. I had 
not voted for him. I had not admired or even supported him ; 
but that night I regretted that I had not, for what I saw satis- 
fied me that there is not a dro^ in Abraham Lincoln's veins 
that does not beat for his country. 

It was hard to get him to the subject, but at last I did do it; 
and then he told me, in a clear, direct way, the terms he would 
give the Rebels. A portion of these terms have since been in- 
cluded in the Amnesty Proclamation ; the rest I do not feel at 
liberty to make public. They are all, however, embodied in a 
few of his words : 

" The country will do every thing for safety — nothing for re- 
venge." 

If Washington ever uttered a grander, or a nobler sentence 
than that, I have not read it. 

Finally, he said : 

" You can write what I say to General Rosecrans, and he can 
communicate as much of it as he thmks best to Colonel 
Jaquess ; but the Colonel must not understand that he has these 
terms from me. We want peace, but we can make no over- 
tures to the Rebels. They already know that the country 
would welcome them back, and treat them generously and 
magnanimously." 



246 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

It was nearly twelve o'clock when I rose to go. As I did so, 
he said : 

" Don't go yet. I shall stay here until I get something from 
Grant !" 

The next morning I wrote to Rosecrans, and, within ten days, 
Colonel Jaquess started for the South. At Baltimore he re- 
ported to General Schenck, who forwarded him on to Fortress 
Monroe. Arriving there he explained his business to General 
Dix, and he, after much delay, allowed him to smuggle himself 
on board a flag-of-truce boat going to the Rebel lines. He was 
in his uniform, but the Rebel officer who met our flag said to him : 

" Go where you please, and stay as long as you like." 

Any one can see the great risk he ran. He had no creden- 
tials ; nothing to show who he was, or why he came ; and there 
were ten chances to one that he would be taken as a spy. But 
what was that to him ? He was about his Master's work, and 
his trust in the Master, which " whoever runs may read " in 
his face, carried him safely through. 

He went to Petersburg, and there they came to him. As 
Nicodemus came to the great Peace-Maker, so the Rebel 
leaders came to him, by night. Disguised, and under false 
names, they sought him to ask the way to peace. 

" Lay down your arms ; go back to your allegiance, and the 
country will deal kindly and generously by you," he said to all 
of them. 

From all he had the same answer : 

" We are tired of the war. We are willing to give up 
slavery. We know it is gone ; but so long as our Government 
holds out, we must stand by it. We cannot betray it and each 
other." 



COLON Ei JAMKS F. JAQUK88. 24:7 

And this is now the sentiment of the Southern people, and 
of a vast number of the Southern leaders. 

lie remained at Petersburg several weeks and then returned 
to Baltimore. From there he wrote to the President, but re- 
ceived no answer. He waited there a long time ; but, no an- 
swer coming, finally returned to his regiment. Then he wrote me, 
stating the result of his visit, and saying he wanted to go again, 
with liberty to see JefF. Davis. [Other leaders he had seen, but 
Davis he had not seen.] This letter came just as I was setting 
out on a long journey; and, naturally concluding that if he 
had not answered Jaquess, he would not answer me, I did not 
write to the President. Thus the affair rested till I returned 
from my journey. Then I went to Washington, and, calling 
on Mr. Lincoln, asked him why he had not answered Jaquess. 

" I never received his letter," was the unexpected reply. 

" Well, it's not too late. Those people are ripe for peace 
now. I know that from many of them. Let Jaquess go again. 
There is no telling what he may accomplish." 

The President turned about on his chair, and on a small 
card wrote the following: 

" To tvhom it may concern : 

"The bearer, Colonel James F. Jaquess, Seventy-third 
Illinois, has leave of absence until further orders. 

"A. Lincoln." 

In a few weeks Jaquess joined me in Baltimore. Going 
with him to Washington, I then learned that unexpected 
obstacles were in the way of his further progress. These ob- 
stacles could be removed by my accompanying him, and that 
and other reasons finally led to our visiting Richmond together. 



248 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



CHAPTER XX. 

•WHY I WENT TO KICHMOND. 

I HAVE, in the preceding chapter, related the fact of Colonel 
Jaquess' first visit within the Rebel lines, and the circumstances 
which led to his setting out on a second journey thither ; and 
the reader may now ask why I, a " civil" individual, not in the 
pay of Government, and having no sort of influence in " the 
Methodist Church South," accompanied him on this second ex- 
pedition, and, at a season when all the world was rushing North 
to the mountains and the watering-places, journeyed South for 
a conference with the arch-Rebel, in the hot and dangerous 
latitude of Virginia. 

I could give half a dozen good reasons for undertaking such 
a journey, and any one of them would prove that I am a sensi- 
ble man, altogether too sensible to go on so long a trip, in 
the heat of midsummer, for the mere pleasure of the thing ; but 
I will content myself with enumerating a smaller number, and 
the reader may believe that any one, or all of them, had a 
greater or a less influence, or no influence at all, in determining 
my movements. 

First : Very many honest people at the North sincerely be- 
lieve that the revolted States will return to the Union if assured 
of protection to their peculiar institution. The Government 
having declared that no State shall be readmitted which has 
not first abolished slavery, these people hold it responsible for 



WHY I WENT TO RICHMOND. 2-i9 

the continuance of the war. It^is, therefore, important to 
know whether the Rebel States will, or will not, return to their 
allegiance, if allowed to retain Slavery. Mr. Jefferson Davis 
could, undoubtedly, answer that question ; and that may have 
seemed a reason why I should go to see him. 

Second: On the second of July last, C. C. Clay, of Alabama; 
J. P. Holcombe, of Virginia; and G. N. Sandei's, of nowhere 
in particular, appeared at Niiigara Falls, and publicly an- 
nounced that they were there to confer with the Democratic 
leaders in reference to the Chicago nomination. Very soon 
thereafter, a few friends of the Administration received intima- 
tions from those gentlemen that they were Commissioners from 
the Rebel Government, with authority to negotiate prelimina- 
ries of peace on something like the following basis, namely : A 
restoration of the Union as it was; all negroes actually freed by 
the war to be declared free, and all negroes not actually freed 
by the war to be declared slaves. 

These overtures were not considered sincere. They seemed 
concocted to embarrass the Government, to throw upon it the 
odium of continuing the war, and thus to secure the triumph 
of the peace-traitors at the November election. The scheme, 
if well managed, threatened to be dangerous, by uniting the 
Peace-men, the Copperheads, and such of the Republicans as 
love peace better than principle, in one opposition, willing to 
make peace on terras inconsistent with the interests and safety 
of the nation. It seemed, therefore, important to discover — 
what was then in doubt — whether the Rebel envoys really had, 
or had not, any official authority. 

Within fifteen days of the appearance of these " Peace Com- 
missioners," Jefi'erson Davis had said to an eminent Secession 
11* 



250 DOWN IX TENNESSEE. 

divine, who, late in June, came through the Union lines by the 
Maryland back-door, that he would make peace on no other 
terms than a recognition of Southern Independence. (He might, 
however, agree to two governments, bound together by a league 
offensive and defensive — for all external purposes, one ; for all 
internal purposes, two ; but he would agree to nothing better.) 

There was reason to consider this information trustworthy, 
and to believe Mr. Davis altogether ignorant of the doings of 
his Niagara satellites. If this were true, and were proven to 
be true — if the preat Rebel should reiterate this declaration in 
the presence of a trustworthy witness, at the very time when 
the small Rebels were opening their Quaker guns on the coun- 
try — would not the Niagara negotiators be stripped of their 
false colors, and their low schemes be exposed to the scorn of 
all honest men. North and South ? 

I may have thought so ; and, if I did, that may have seemed 
another good reason W'by I should go to Richmond. 

Tliird : And this, to very many, may appear as potent as any 
of the preceding reasons : — I had in my boyhood a strange fancy 
for church-belfries and liberty-poles. This fancy led me, in 
school-vacations, to perch my small self for hours on the cross- 
beams in the old belfry, and to climb to the very top of the 
tall pole which still surmounts the little village green. In my 
youth, this feeling was simply a spirit of adventure ; but as I 
grew older it deepened into a reverence for what those old 
bells said, and a love for the principle of which that old liberty- 
pole is now only a crumbling symbol. 

Had not events shown that Jetf. Davis had never seen that 
old liberty-pole, and never heard the chimes which still ring 
out from that old belfrv ? Who knew, in these davs when 



WHY I WENT TO KICIIMOND. 251 

every woodsawyer lias a "mission," but / had a mission, and 
it was to tfU tlie Rebel President that Northern liberty-poles 
still stand for Freedom, and that Northern church-bells still 
peal out, " Liberty throughout the land, to all the inhabitants 
thereof?" 

If that ivas my mission, will anybody blame me for fanning 
Mr. Davis with a "blast" of cool Northern "wind" in this hot 
weather? — and might not that be reason enough why I should 
go to Richmond ? 

Ikit enough of mystification. The straightforward reader 
wants a straightforward reason, and he shall have it. 

I went to Richmond because I thought I could render mate- 
rial aid to Colonel Jaquess, in paving the way to negotiations 
that might result in peace. 

If we should succeed, the consciousness of having served the 
country would, I thought, pay our expenses. If we should fail, 
but return safely, we might still serve the country by making 
public the cause of our failure. If we should fail, and not return 
safely, but be shot or hanged as spies, — as we might be, for we 
could have no protection from our Government, and no safe- 
conduct from the rebels, — two lives would be added to the 
thousands already sacrificed to this rebellion; but they would 
as effectually serve the country as if lost on the battle-field. 

These are the reasons, and the only reasons, why I went to 
Richmond. 



252 DOWN IN TENHESSKE. 



CHAPTER XXL 

ON THE WAT TO RICHMOND. 

Having decided on accompanying Colonel Jaquess, I pro- 
cured a pass to General Grant's head-quarters, and, on a pleasant 
afternoon in July, went with him on board of one of the small 
steamers plying between Washington and. City Point. As we 
stepped upon the gangway, a civil young gentleman, in linen 
trousers and the undress coat of an infantry captain, said to 
me : 

" Your pass, sir," 

I produced the required paste-board, and coolly putting it in 
his pocket, he remarked : 

" All right, sir." 

" Not exactly all right, ray dear fellow. It will be when you 
return me the pass." 

" But I'll see you safely to the General's. This is a kind I 
don't often get, and I want to keep it." 

" And I prefer you shouldn't — perhaps for that very reason. 
So deliver." 

He did " deliver," but very reluctantly. However, he made 
amends for the slight incivility by uncommon attention during 
the passage. 

The boat was crowded with passengers — officers returning 
from furlough, recruits going to the field, convalescent veterans* 
rejoining their regiments, and country clergymen entering on 



ON THE WAY TO RICHMOND. 253 

the good work of the Sanitary and Christian Commissions — and 
the trip was fruitful in incidents characteristic of the war, and 
illustrative of the mighty transition which is regenerating the 
nation. But we are going to Richmond, and the reader will 
not thank me if I linger by the way. 

It wanted several hours of sundown on the following day, 
when the boat rounded to under the abrupt promontory which 
bears the name of City Point. A large flag was flying a«iong 
the trees which crown the higher part of the headland, and, 
making our way to it, we asked for the quarters of the Gen- 
eral. 

" Yonder, in that tent. He is sitting there, you see," rephed 
the adjutant. 

Without more ceremony, we passed down the grassy avenue, 
and presented ourselves before him. He was seated on a camp 
stool, smoking a cigar, and listening to the reading of a news- 
paper by Genei'al Rawlins. A few other officers sat near, and 
something which had just been read appeared to amuse tliem 
greatly. The General looked up as we approached, and, as he 
espied my companion, rose rather hastily. 

" Ah ! Colonel," he said, extending his hand, " I am glad to 
sec you. It's a long time since we met. Not since — " 

" Pittsburg Landing, I believe. General. I think we met 
there," returned my companion. 

"Yes, I remember. I remember the work you did there for 
the wounded. When did you leave Sherman ?" 

" About ten days ago. I brought dispatches from him to the 
War Department." 

" I have heard from him later than that. He is doing splen- 
didly — handling his army most magnificently." 



254: DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

Meanwhile, the Colonel had introduced me to the General, 
and at this break in the conversation I said to liira : 

" We want your ear, sir, privately, for a few moments." 

" Certainly; walk in this way." And rising, he led us into 
his sleeping apartment — a square tent, with a single strip of 
carpet on the ground, a low camp-cot in one corner, and a port- 
able desk, covered with open papers, in the other. 

Handing him, then, a note I had with me, I briefly explained 
our wishes. 

" I don't believe the rebels will receive you. They have not 
answered a flag: for a month. However, I will send one. I 
shall have to address General Lee. Shall I say you want to 
meet Judge Ould ?" he asked, drawing his stool to the desk. 

" If you please, and suppose you add, that if there appears to 
Lee any objection to Quid's meeting us, you would like to 
have him refer our request to Jeff. Davis." 

" I'll do so," and he began the note. While he was writing 
it, I noted more particularly his appearance. He is of about the 
medium height, with a large head, a compact frame, and a 
deep, broad chest and shoulders. His hair is brown, his eyes 
clear, deep gray, and his features regular, and of a cast that 
might be called " Massive, Grecian." Though his first meeting 
with the Colonel was decidedly cordial, his usual manner is 
cool and undemonstrative; but with this coolness is a certain 
earnest simplicity, that impresses one very favorably. In his 
face is the unyielding persistency which has won him so many 
battles, but there is nothing else remarkable about him. He 
does not at once magnetize a stranger with a sense of his genius, 
as does Rosecrans. 

The note finished, he read it to us. " Will that do?" he asked. 



ON THE WAY TO RICHMOND. 255 

" Yes, Sir, when can it go off?" 

"At once. It'll goby boat to Point of Rocks, and from there 
lo the Rebel lines ; but, at the earliest, you'll not get a reply 
i efore to-morrow night." 

The conversation then took a general turn, and in a clear, 
simple way he explained the military position, expressing the 
opinion that the fall of Richmond and the defeat of Lee, 
though they might be delayed, were inevitable events. 

As we rose to go, he said : 

" Where do you sleep to-night ?" 

" We've engaged lodgings on the steamer. We hope to 
leave you to-morrow." 

As we passed down towards the wharf, we met a number of 
officers just landed from a small steamer. One of them, though 
I had never seen him before, I knew at once to be General 
Butler. Obeying a sudden impulse, I halted as he came 
abreast of us, and said to him : 

" I want to take yoa by the hand ; I am, myself, a live 
Yankee," and I mentioned ray name. 

Giving me a cordial grasp, he replied, "I'm delighted to 
meet you. Come up and see me. Take the ' Gazelle' to 
Point of Rocks — don't go to Bermuda. Come to-morrow." 

I then introduced the Colonel, and the General again urging 
us to visit him, we promised to do so. 

Reporting our intended absence to General Grant, and 
requesting him to forward Lee's answer to us by telegraph, we 
set out on the following morning for the head-quarters of " Our 
Massachusetts General." We found them about a mile distant 
from the Appomatox river, in a worn-out tobacco-field, flanked 
on two sides by dense woods, and hemmed in on the others 



256 • DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

by " moving" banks of Virginia sand. It was a dreary spot, 
but we forgot that, the moment we entered the General's tent, 
and he accosted us with : 

" I'm glad you've come. There are two cots in the corner. 
They are yours. I sent your flag this morning. It may not 
be back for some days. In the mean time make yourselves at 
home. Go and come when you like, and do exactly as you 
please." 

We remained with the General nearly three days, and they 
were among the most agreeable days I ever passed. We rode 
with him about his lines, witnessing his reviews of the black 
troops, and his various experiments in " Greek fire," " Proclama- 
tion kite" flying, and " infernal shell" shooting, wliich are 
proving so valuable to the army ; or, when not so engaged, sat 
with him in his tent, listening to his interesting political and 
military experiences, and getting such inside glimpses of" But 
ler in New Orleans" as are not to be found even in Parton's 
admirable book. With a keen sense of humor, an inexhaustible 
fund of anecdote, and a ready, comprehensive intellect, he is 
about the most interesting and entertaining conversationalist I 
ever knew. In hearing him, one loses the " power of speech," 
and only sits still and listens. He knew our object in visiting 
Rebeldom, and one morning I said to him : 

" General, you know Jeff. Davis. Tell us, how- shall we 
approach him ? — what shall we say to him ?" 

Drawing one leg over the other, and dilating his nostrils in 
a way peculiar to himself, he answered : 

" Do you really want to know ? Well, I'll tell you," and, 
throwing himself into an attitude, he gave us for half an hour 
an imaginary conversation with the Rebel leader, personating 



ON THE WAY TO KICIIMOND, 257 

first him, and then the Colonel and myself, and " doing" us so 
admirably that I almost fancied we ourselves, were actually 
speaking. As he was about concluding, General Meade entered 
the front tent, and as he rose to receive his visitoi-, he turned 
on his heel, and — still speaking as JefF. Davis — ■ '"^finished us" 
as follows : 

" Now, gentlemen, I've said my say, and if you don't clear 
out, and take your Yankee notions to some other market, I'll 
hang you to the first tree — I will, as I'm a Christian !" 

Afterwards, when listening to the much more serious words 
of the Rebel leader, I had often to smile as General Butler'^s 
inimitable personation of him recurred to me ; and when again, 
late at night, we returned from the Rebel lines, and si\ff with 
long riding, and exhausted with fatigue and illness, I staggered 
into his tent, and threw myself on a cot in the corner, I almost 
died with laughter while the Colonel recounted to him the Rich- 
mond interview — it was so like the advance representation he 
had given us. If we had known Jefi". Davis as General Butler 
knows him, I very much question our having gone to Rich- 
mond. 

The next morning the flag-of-truce officer came into camp 
with a dispatch, of which the following is a copy : 

""War Department, Richmond, Va., July I2th, 1864. 

" To the Officer commanding 

the United States Forces at Deep Bottom, Va. : 

"Sir: — A communication from Lieut.-Geueral U.S.Grant to 

General R. E. Lee, requesting that , Esq., and Colonel 

James F. Jaquess, be allowed to meet the undersigned at such 



258 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

place between the lines of the two armies as may be designated, 
having been referred to the War Department, I am directed to 
request you to notify Lieut. -General Grant that I will be in 
attendance at some convenient point between Deep Bottom and 
Chaffin's Bluff (say at Mrs. Grover's), on Thursday, the 14th 
inst., at one o'clock p. m., to receive any communication the 
above-named parties have to make. 
" Respectfully, 

"Your obedient servant, 

"Ro. OuLD, 
" Agent of Exckangey 

At the appointed time we rode up to Mrs. Grover's, a modest 
plantation mansion, about midway between the two armies, on 
the James River. Our " Soutliern friends" were not there ; but 
in the edge of a grove of cedars, a few hundred yards distant, 
we saw a white flag aflying. Galloping rapidly across the in- 
tervening wheat-field, we soon caught sight of a pair of horses 
hitched to an open, two-seated wagon, and near it saw three 
gentlemen seated on a log in the shade of a huge tree. These 
gentlemen rose as we approached, and one of them — a courteous, 
middle-aged man, in a Panama hat and a suit of spotless white 
drillings — said to Major Mulford, the Union Commissioner, who 
accompanied us : 

" I'm glad to see you. Major. It's some time since we met." 

" Yes, it is. I've come now to deliver to you these gentle- 
men, to be shot or hanged — whichever you like." 

The Judge — for it was Judge Ould — laughed, and then 
introduced us to his companions — Captain Hatch, of the 
Commission, and Major Hennikeu, of the Rebel War Depart- 
ment. 



ON THK WAY TO EICHMOND. 259 

Some unimportant conversation followed, and then, saying we 
would like to speak with hiin privately, we led the Judge into 
the grove of cedars. There we opened our business. He lis- 
tened with interest, but expressed the opinion that Mr. Davis 
would refuse to see us, unless we produced credentials from 
our Government. 

*' We have none," said the Colonel, in his earnest way ; " but 
we must see him. We only ask a hearing. Then he may hang 
or shoot us, if he likes." 

" Hang, but hear !" answered the Judge, laughing. " That 
is what you mean ?" 

" Yes," said the Colonel. " We have that to say which Mr. 
Davis ought to hear, and we are willing to risk our lives to 
say it." 

" Well," said the Judge, " I will bear your message to the 
President, and meet you here again — when ?" 

" To-morrow, at this hour, if you like." 

*' That may be too early. Suppose we say the next day, 
Saturday, at twelve o'clock." ^ 

" Very well ; Saturday let it be." And remounting our 
horses, we rode back to Geueral Butler's camp. 

We remained there the following day, and on the morning of 
Saturday, the 16th of July, just as the Boston bells were sound- 
ing nine, taking him by the hand, we said to him : 

" Good by. If you do not see us within ten days, you will 
know we have 'gone up.'" 

" If I do not see you within that time," he replied, " I'll de- 
aiand you; and if they don't produce you, body and soul, I'll 
take two for one, — better men than you are, — and hang them 
higher than Haman. My hand on that. Good by." 



260 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

At three o'clock that afternoon, mounted on two raw-boned 
relics of Sheridan's great raid, and armed with a letter to JefF. 
Davis, a white cambric handkerchief tied to a short stick, and 
an honest face, — this last was the Colonel's, — we rode up to the 
rebel lines. A ragged, yellow-faced boy, with a carbine in one 
hand, and another white handkerchief tied to another short stick 
in the other, came out to meet us. 

" Can you tell us, my man, where to find Judge Ould, the 
Exchange Commissioner ?" 

" Yas. Him and t'other 'Change officers is over ter the 
plantation beyont Miss Grover's. Ye'll know it by its hevin' 
nary door nur winder" — the mansion, he meant. "They's all 
busted in. Poller the bridle-path through the timber, and keep 
your rag a-flyin', fur our boys is thicker 'n hnckelberries in 
them woods, and they mought pop ye, ef they didn't seed it." 

Thanking him, we turned our horses into the " timber," and 
galloping rapidly on, soon came in sight of the deserted planta- 
tion. Lolling on the grass, in the shade of the windowless 
mansion, we found the Confederate officials. They rose as we 
approached ; and one of us said to the Judge : 

" Wc are late, but it's your fault. Your people tired at us 
down the river, and we had to turn back and come over-land." 

"You don't suppose they saw your flag?" 

" No. It was hidden by the trees; but a shot came uncom- 
fortably near us. It struck the water, and ricocheted not three 
yards off. A little nearer, and it would have shortened me by a 
head, and the Colonel by two feet," 

"That would have been a sad thing for you ; but a miss, you 
know, is as good as a mile," said the Judge, evidently enjoying 
the "joke." 



ON THE WAY TO RICHMOND. 261 

" We hear Grant was in the boat that followed yours, and was 
struck while at dinner," remarked Captain Hatch — a gentleman, 
and about the best-looking man in tlie Confederacy. 

" Indeed ! Do yon believe it ?" 

" I don't know, of course ;" and his looks asked for an an- 
swer. We gave none, for all such information is contraband. 
We might have told him that Grant, Butler, and Foster exam- 
ined their position from Mrs. Grover's house — a few hundred 
yards distant — two hours after the Rebel cannon-ball danced a 
break-down on the Lieutenant-General's dinner-table. 

In addition to the Major Henniken previously spoken of, 
there were present, on this occasion, several other officials, 
whose appearance indicated that we were to be welcomed in 
Richmond. 

One of them was a stoutly built man, of medium height, 
with a short, thick neck, and arms and shoulders denoting 
great strength. He looked a natural-born jailer, and much such 
a character as a timid man would not care to encounter, except 
at long range of a rifle warranted to fire twenty shots a minute, 
and to hit every time. This was Mr. Charles Javins, of the 
Richmond Provost-Guard, and he was our shadow in Dixie. 
Another was a " likely" " cullud gemman," named Jack, who 
told us he was almost the sole survivor of " Massa Allen's" 
twelve hundred slaves — " De res' all stole, Massa — stole by you 
Yankees," — and the others were two mules hitched to an am- 
bulance, which, over ruts, stumps, and an awful sandy road, 
bore us safely to the Rebel capital. 

To give us a moonlight view of the fortifications. Judge Ould 
proposed to start after sundown ; and as it wanted some hours 
of that time, we seated ourselves on the ground, and entered into 



262 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

conversation. The treatment of our prisoners, the status of black 
troops, and non-combatants, and all the questions which have 
led to the suspension of exchanges, had been good-naturedl}^ 
discussed, when the Captain, looking up from one of the North- 
ern papers we had brought him, said — 

" Don't you know, it mortifies me that you don't hate us as 
we hate you ? You kill us as Agassiz kills a fly, — because you 
love us." 

" Of course we-do. The North is being crucified for love of 
the South." 

" If you love us so, why don't you let us go ?" asked the 
Judge, rather curtly. 

" For that very reason, — because wo love you. If we let you 
go, with slavery, and your notions of 'empire,' you'd run 
straight to barbarism and the Devil." 

" We'd take the risk of that. But, let me tell you, if you 
are going to Mr. Davis with any such ideas, you might as Avell 
turn back at once. He can make peace on no other basis than 
Independence. Recognition must be the beginning, middle, 
and ending of all negotiations. The people will accept peace 
on no other terms." 

"I think you are wrong there," said the Colonel. "When 
I was here a year ago, I met many of your leading men, and 
they all assured me they wanted peace and reunion, even at the 
sacrifice of slavery. Within a week, a man you venerate and 
love has met me at Baltimore, and besought me to come here 
and offer Mr. Davis peace on such conditions." 

"That may be. Some of our old men, who are weak in the 
knees, may want peace on any terms ; but the Southern people 
will not have it without Independence. Mr. Davis knows thera, 



ON THE WAY TO RICHMOND. 263 

and you will find he will insist upon that. Concede that, and 
we'll not quarrel about minor matters." 

" We'll not quarrel at all. But it's sundown, and time we 
were ' on to Richmond.' " 

" That 's the ' Tribune' cry," said the Captain, rising ; " and I 
hurrah for the ' Tribune,' for it 's honest, and — I want my sup- 
per." 

We all laughed, and the Judge ordered the horses. As we 
were about to start, I said to him : — 

" You 've forgotten our parole." 

" Oh ! never mind that. We '11 attend to that at Richmond." 

Stepping into his carriage, and unfurling the flag of truce, 
he then led the way, by a " short cut," across the cornfield 
which divided the mansion from the high-road. We followed 
in the ambulance, our shadow, Mr. Javins, sitting between us 
and the twilight, and Jack occupying the front seat, and, with a 
stout whip, " working our passage" to Richmond. 

Much that was amusing and interesting occurred during our 
three-hours' journey, but regard for my word forbids my rela- 
ting it. Suffice it to say, we saw the '* frowning fortifications," 
we " flanked" the " invincible army," and, at ten o'clock that 
night, planted our flag (against a lamp-post) in the very heart of 
the hostile city. As we alighted at the doorway of the Spots- 
wood Hotel, the Judge said to the Colonel, — 

" Button your outside coat up closely. Your uniform must 
not be seen here." 

The Colonel did as he was bidden ; and, without stopping to 
register our names at the office, we followed the Judge and the 
Captain up to No. 60. It was a large, square room, in the 
fourth story, with an unswept, ragged carpet, and bare white 



264 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

walls, smeared with soot and tobacco-juice. Several chairs, a 
inarble-top table, and a pine wash-stand and clothes-press, strag- 
gled about the floor, and in the corners were three beds, gar- 
nished with tattered pillow-cases, and covered with white coun- 
terpanes, grown gray with longing for soapsuds and a wash-tub. 
The plainer and humbler of these beds was designed for the 
burly Mr. Javins ; the others had been made ready for the 
extraordinary envoys (not envoys extraordinary) who, in defi- 
ance of all precedent and the "law of nations," had just " taken 
Richmond." 

A single gas-jet was burning over the mantel-piece, and above 
it I saw a " writing on the wall," which implied that Jane Jack- 
son had run up a washing-score of fifty dollars ! 

I was congratulating myself on not having to pay that wo- 
man's laundry-bills, when the Judge said : 

" You want supper. What shall we order ?" 

" A slice of hot corn-bread would make me the happiest man 
in Richmond." 

The Captain thereupon left the room, and, shortly returning, 
remarked : 

" The landlord swears you're from Georgia. He says none 
but a Georgian would call for corn-bread at this time of 
night." 

On that hint we acted, and when our sooty attendant came 
in with the supper-things, we discussed Georgia mines, Georgia 
banks, and Georgia mosquitoes, in a way that showed we had 
been bitten by all of them. In half an hour it was noised all 
about the hotel that the two gentlemen the Confederacy was 
taking such excellent care of were from Georgia. 

The meal ended, and a qaiet smoke over, our entertainers 



ON THE WAT TO RICSMOND, 265 

rose to go. As the Judge bade us " good-niglit," he said 
to us : 

" 111 -the morning you liad better address a note to Mr. Ben- 
i jamin, asking the interview with the President. I will call at 
ten o'clock, and take it to him." 

" Very well. But will Mr. Davis see us on Sunday ?" 

" Oh ! that will make no difFerence." 
12 



260 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 



CHAPTER XXIL 



IN RICHMOND. 



The next morning, after breakfast, winch we took in our 
room with Mr. Javins, we indited a note — of wliicli the following 
is a copy — to the Confederate Secretary of State : 

"Spotswood House, Richmond, Ya., 
"Juhj 17, 18G4. 
" Hon. J. P. Benjamin, Secretary of State, etc. 

" Dear Sir : — The undersigned respectfully solicit an inter- 
view with President Davis. 

" They visit Richmond only as private citizens, and have no 
official character or authority ; but they are acquainted with 
the views of the United States Government, and with the sen- 
timents of the Northern people, relative to an adjustment of the 
differences existing between the North and the South, and ear- 
nestly hope that a free interchange of views between President 
Davis and themselves may open the.way to such official nego- 
tiations as will result in restoring peace to the two sections of 
our distracted country. 

" They therefore ask an interview with the President, and, 
awaiting your reply, are 

" Truly and respectfully yours." 

This was signed by both of us ; and when the Judge called, 
as he had appointed, we sent it — together with a commenda- 
tory letter I had received on setting out, from a near relative of 



IN RICnMOND. 267 

]\Ir. Davis — to the Rebel Secretary. In half an hour Judge 
Oulcl returned, saying : " Mr. Benjamin sends you his compli- 
ments, and will be happy to see you at the State Depart- 
ment." 

We found the Secretary— a short, plump, oily little man in 
black, with a keen black eye, a Jew face, a yellow skin, curly 
black hair, closely-trimmed black whiskers, and a ponderous gold 
watch-chain — in the northwest room of the " United States" 
Custom-House. Over the door of this room were the words, 
" State Department," and about its walls were hung a few maps 
and battle-plans. In one corner was a tier of shelves, filled 
with books, — among which I noticed Headley's "History," 
Lossing's " Pictorial," Parton's "Butler," Greeley's " American 
Conflict," a complete set of the " Rebellion ilecord," and a 
dozen numbers and several bound volumes of the "Atlantic 
Monthly," — and in the centre of the apartment was a black- 
walnut table, covered with green cloth, and filled with a multi- 
tude of " State papers." At this table sat the Secretary. He 
rose as we entered, and, as Judge Ould introduced us, took our 
hands, and said : 

" I am glad, very glad, to meet you, gentlemen. I have read 
your note, and" — bowing to me — " the letter you bring from 

. Your errand commands my respect and sympathy. 

Pray be seated." 

As we took the proffered seats, the Colonel, drawing off his 
" duster," and displaying his uniform, said : 

" We thank you for this cordial reception, Mr. Benjamin. 
We trust you will be as glad to hear us as you are to see us." 

" No doubt I shall be, for you come to talk of peace. Peace 
is what we all want." 



268 DOWN IN TENNESSEK. 

" It is, indeed ; and for that reason we have come to see Mr. 
Davis. Can we see liiin, Sir ?" 

"Do you bring any overtures to him from your Govern- 
ment ?" 

"No, Sir. We bring no overtures and have no authority 
from our Government. We state that in our note. We would 
be glad, however, to know what terms will be acceptable to Mr. 
^Davis. If they at all harmonize with Mr. Lincoln's views, we 
will report them to him, and so open the door for official nego- 
tiations." 

" Are you acquainted with Mr. Lincoln's views ?" 

" One of us is, fully ?" 

" Did Mr. Lincoln, in any way, authorize you to come 
here ?" 

" No, Sir. We came with his pass, but not by his request. 
We say, distinctly, we have no official, or unofficial, authority. 
We come as men and Christians, not as diplomatists, hoping, in 
a frank talk with Mr. Davis, to discover some way by which 
this war may be stopped." 

" Well, gentlemen, I will repeat what you say to the Presi- 
dent, and if he follows my advice, — and I think he will, — he 
will meet you. He will be at church this afternoon ; so, sup- 
pose you call here at nine this evening. If any thing should 
occur in the mean time to prevent his seeing you, I will let you 
know through Judge Oiild." 

Throughout this interview the manner of the Secretary was 
cordial; but with this cordiality was a strange constraint and 
diffidence, almost amounting to timidity, which struck both my 
companion and myself. Contrasting his manner with the quiet 
dio"nity of the Colonel, I almost fancied our positions reversed, 



m KICHMOND. 2G9 

— that, instead of our being in his power, the Secretary was 
in ours,- and luomently expected to hear some unwelcome sen- 
tence from our lips. There is something, after all, in moral 
power. Mr. Benjamin does not possess it, nor is he a great 
man. He has a keen, shrewd, ready intellect, but not the 
stamina to originate, or even to execute, any great good, or great 
wickedness. 

After a day spent in our room, conversing with the Judge, or 
watching the passers-by in the street, — I would like to tell who 
they were, and how they looked ; but such information is, just 
now, contraband, — we called again, at nine o'clock, at the State 
Department. 

Mr. -Benjamin occupied his previous seat at the table, and at 
his right sat a spare, thin-featured man, with iron-gray hair and 
beard, and a clear, gray eye, full of life and vigor. He had a 
broad, massive forehead, and a mouth and chin denoting great 
energy and strength of will. His face was emaciated, and 
much wrinkled, but his features were good, especially his eyes, 
— though one of them bore a scar, apparently made by some 
sharp instrument. He wore a suit of grayish-brown, evidently 
of foreign manufacture, and, as he rose, I saw that he was 
about five feet ten inches high, with a slight stoop in the 
shoulders. His manners were simple, easy, and most fasci- 
nating; and there was an indescribable charm in his voice, as 
he extended his hand and said to us : 

" I am glad to see you, gentlemen. You are very welcome 
to Richmond." 

And this was the man who was President of the United 
States, under Franklin Pierce, and who is now the heart, soul, 
and brains of the Southern Confederacy ! 



270 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

His manner put me entirely at my ease, — the Colonel would 
be at his, if he stood before Ciesar, — and I replied : 

" We thank you, Mr. Davis. It is not often that you meet 
men of our clotbes and our principles in Richmond." 

" Not often, — not so often as I could wish ; and I trust your 
coming may lead to a more frequent and a more friendly inter- 
course between the North and the South." 

" We sincerely hope it may." 

" Mr. Benjamin tells me that you have asked to see me to — " 

And he paused, as if desiring we should finish the sentence. 
The Colonel replied : 

" Yes, Sir. We have asked this interview, in the hope that 
you may suggest some way by which this war may be stopped. 
Our people want peace, — your people do, and your Congress 
has recently said that you do. We have come to ask how it 
caa be brought about." 

" In a very simple way. Withdraw your armies from our 
territoiy, and peace will come of itself. We do not seek to 
subjugate you. We are not waging an offensive war, except so 
far as it is offensive-defensive, — that is, so far as we arc forced 
to invade you to prevent your invading us. Let us alone, and 
peace will come at once. 

" But we cannot let you alone so long as you repudiate the 
Union. That is the one thing the Northern people will not 
surrender." 

" I know. You would deny to us what you exact for your- 
selves — the right of self-government." 

" No, Sir," I remarked. " We would deny you no natural 
right. But we think Union essential to peace ; and, Mr. Davis^ 
could two peoplCj with the same language, separated by onlj 



IN RICHMOND. 271 

an imaginary line, live at peace with each other ? Would not 
disputes constantly arise, and cause almost constant war between 
them ?" 

" Undoubtedly, — with this generation. You have sown 
such bitterness at the South ; you have put such an ocean of 
blood between the two sections, that I despair of seeing any 
harmony in my time. Our children may forget this war, but 
we cannot." 

"I think the bitterness you speak of, Sir," said the Colonel, 
" does not really exist. We meet and talk here as friends ; our, 
soldiers meet and fraternize with each other ; and I feel sure 
that if the Union were restored, a more friendly feeling would 
arise between us than has ever existed. The war has made us 
know and respect each other better than before. This is the 
view of very many Southern men ; I have had it from many 
of them, — your leading citizens." 

" They are mistaken," replied Mr. Davis. " They do not 
understand Southern sentiment. How can we feel any thing 
bat bitterness towards men who deny us our rights ? If you 
enter my house and drive me out of it, am I not your natural 
enemy ?" 

" You put the case too strongly. But we cannot fight for- 
ever; the war must end at some time; we must finally agree 
upon something; can we not agree now, and stop this frightful 
carnage ? We are both Christian men, Mr. Davis. Can you, 
as a Christian man, leave untried any means that may lead to 
peace ?" 

" No, I cannot. I desire peace as ranch as you do. I de- 
plore bloodshed as much as yon do ; but I feel that not one 
drop of the blood shed in this war is on ?«.y hands, — I can look 



272 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

) 

up to my God and say this. I tried all in my power to avert 
this war. I saw it coming, and for twelve years I worked night 
and day to prevent it, but I could not. The North was mad 
and blind ; it would not let us govern ourselves, and so the war 
came, and now it must go on till the last man of this generation 
falls in his tracks, and his children seize his musket and fight 
our battle, unless you achnowledge our right to self-government. 
We are not fighting for slavery. We are fighting for Indepen- 
dence, and that, or extermination, we will have." 

" And there are, at least, four and a half millions of us left ; 
so you see you have a work before you," said Mr. Benjamin, 
with a decided sneer. 

" We have no wish to exterminate you," answered the 
Colonel. " I believe what I have said, — that there is no bitter- 
ness between the Northern and Southern people. The North, 
I know, loves the South. When peace comes, it will pour 
money and means into your hands to repair the waste caused 
by the war; and it would^now welcome you back, and forgive 
you all the loss and bloodshed you have caused. But we must 
crush your armies, and exterminate your Government. And is 
not that already nearly done ? You are wholly witliout money, 
and at the end of your resources. Grant has shut you up in 
Richmond. Sherman is before Atlanta. Had you not, then, 
better accept honorable terms while you can retain your pres- 
tige, and save the pride of the Southern people ?" 

Mr. Davis smiled. 

" I respect your earnestness, Colonel, but you do not seem to 
understand the situation. We are not exactly shut up in Rich- 
mond. If your papers tell the truth, it is your capital that is 
in danger, not ours. Some weeks ago, Grant crossed the Rapi- 



TN RICHMOND. 273 

dan to whip Lee, and take Richmond. Lee drove him in the 
tirst battle, and then Grant Executed what your people call a 
' brilliant flank movement,' and fought Lee again. Lee drove 
him a second time, and then Grant made another ' flank move- 
ment;' and so they kept on, — Lcc whipping, and Grant flank- 
ing, — until Grant got where he is now. And what is the net 
result ? Grant has lost seventy-five or eighty thousand men — 
more than Lee had at the outset, — and is no nearer taking 
Richmond than at first; and Lee, whose front has never been 
broken, holds him completely in check, and has men enough to 
spare to invade Maryland and threaten Washington ! Sher- 
man, to be sure, is before Atlanta ; but suppose he is, and 
suppose he takes it ? You know that the farther he goes from 
his base of supplies, the weaker he grows, and the more dis- 
astrous defeat will be to him. And defeat may come. So, 
in a military view, I should certainly say our position was bet- 
ter than yours. 

" As to money : we are richer than you are. You smile ; 
but, admit that our paper is worth nothing, — it answers as a 
circulating medium, and we hold it all ourselves. If every dol- 
lar of it were lost, we should, as we have no foreign debt, be 
none the poorer. But, it /*■ worth something; it has the solid 
basis of a large cotton-crop, while yours rests on nothing, and 
you owe all the world. As to resources : we do not lack for 
arms or ammunition, and we have still a wide territory from 
which to gather supplies. So, you see, we are not in extremi- 
ties. But, if we were, — if we were without money, without 
food, without weapons, — if our whole country were desolated, 
and our armies crushed and disbanded, — could we, without 
giving up our manhood, give up our right to govern ourselves? 
12* 



274 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

Would %jou not rather die, and feel yourself a man, than live, 
and be subject to a foreign power ?" 

" From your stand-point tii^re is force in what you say," re; 
plied the Colonel. " But we did not come here to argue with 
you, Mr. Davis. We came, hoping to find some honorable way 
to peace, and I am grieved to hear you say what you do. When 
I have seen your young men dying on the battle-field, and your 
old men, women, and children starving in their homes, I have 
felt I could risk my life to save them. For that reason I am 
here ; and I am grieved, — grieved, — that there is no hope." 

" I know your motives. Colonel Jaquess, and I honor you 
for them ; but what can I do more than I am doing ? I 
would give my poor life, gladly, if it would bring peace and 
good-will to the two countries ; but it would not. It is with 
your own people you should labor. It is they who desolate 
our homes, burn our wheat-fields, break the wheels of wagons 
carrying away our women and children, and destroy supplies 
meant for our sick and wounded. At your door lies all the 
misery and the crime of this war, and it is a fearful, — fearful 
account." 

" Not all of it, Mr. Davis. I admit a fearful account, but it 
is not all at our door. The passions of both sides are aroused. 
Unarmed men are banged, prisoners are shot down in cold 
blood, by yourselves. Elements of barbarism are entering the 
war from both sides, that should make us — you and me, as 
Christian men — shudder to think of. In God's name, then, let 
us stop it. Let us do something, concede something, to bring 
about peace. You cannot expect, with only four and a half 
millions, as Mr. Benjamin says you have, to hold Oiit forever 
against twenty millions." 



IN RICHMOND. 275 

Again Mr. Davis smiled. 

" Do you suppose there are twenty millions at the North 
determined to crush us V 

" I do, — to crush your Government. A small number of our 
people, a very small number, are your friends, — Secessionists. 
The rest differ about measures and candidates, but are united in 
the determination to sustain the Union. Whoever is elected in 
November, he 7nust he committed to a vigorous prosecution of 
the \^ar." • 

Mr. Davis still looking incredulous, I remarked — 

" It is so, Sir. Whoever tells you otherwise, deceives you. 
I think I know Northern sentiment, and I assure you it is so. 
You know we have a system of lyceum-lecturing in our large 
towns. At the close of these lectures, it is the custom of the 
people to come upon the platform and talk with the lecturer. 
This gives him an excellent opportunity of learning public sen- 
timent. Last winter I lectured before nearly a hundred of such 
associations, all over the North, — from Dubuque to Bangor, — ■ 
and I took pains to ascertain the feeling of the people. I found 
a unanimous determination to crush the rebellion and save the 
Union at every sacrifice. The majority are in favor of Mr. 
Lincoln, and nearly all of those opposed to him are opposed to 
him because they think he does not fight you with enough 
vigor. The radical Republicans, who go for slave-suffrage and 
th(jrough confiscation, are those who will defeat him, if he is 
defeated. But if he is defeated before the people, the House 
will elect a worse man — worse I mean for you. It is more 
radical than he is, — you can see that from Mr. Ashley's recon- 
struction bill, — and the people arc more radical than the House. 
Mr. Lincoln, I know, is about to call out five hundred thousand 



276 DOWN IN TE-NNESSEE. 

moro men, and I don't see how you can resist much longer; 
but if you do, you will only deepen the radical feeling of the 
Northern people. They w^^uld now give you fair, honorable, 
generous terms ; but let them suffer much more, let there be a 
dead man in every house, as there is now in every villr.ge, and 
they will give you no terms, — they will insist on hanging every 
rebel south of Pardon my terms. I mean no offence." 

"You give no offence," he replied, smiling very pleasantly. 
" I wouldn't have you pick your words. This is a frank, free 
talk, and I like you the better for saying what you think. Go 
on." 

" I was merely going to add, that let the Northern people 
once really feel the war — they do not feel it yet — and they will 
insist on hanging every one of your leaders." 

" Well, admitting all you say, I can't see how it affects our 
position. There are some things worse than hanging or exter- 
mination. We reckon giving up tbe right of self-government 
one of those things." 

"By self-government you mean disunion — Southern Inde- 
pendence." 

" Yes." 

" And slavery, you say, is no longer an element in the con- 
test ?" 

" No, it is not. It never was an essential element. It was 
only a means of bringing other conflicting elements to an 
earlier culmination. It fired the musket which Avas already 
capped and loaded. There are essential differences between 
the North and the South, that will, however this war may end, 
make them two nations." 
- "You ask me to say what I think. Will yon allow me to 



IN KICIIMOND. . lii i 

say that I know the South pretty well, and never observed 
those differences ?" 

" Then yon have not used your eyes. My sight is poorer 
than yours, but I have seen them for years," 

The laugh was upon me, and Mr. Benjamin enjoyed it. 

" Well, Sir, be that as it may, if I understand you, the dis- 
pute between your government and ours is now narrowed down 
to this : Union or Disunion." 

" Yes ; or, to put it iij otber words. Independence or Subju- 
gation." 

" Then the two governments arc irreconcilably apart. They 
have no alternative but to fight it out. But, it is not so with 
the people. They are tired of iighting and want peace ; and, as 
they bear all the burden and suffering of the war, is it not right 
they should have peace, and have it on such terms as they like ?" 

" I don't understand you ; be a little more explicit." 

" Well. Suppose the two governments should agree to 
something like this : To go to the people with two proposi- 
tions ; say : Peace, with Disunion and Southern Independence, 
as your proposition ; and : Peace, with Union, Emancipation, 
No Confiscation, and Universal Amnesty as ours. Let the citi- 
zens of all the United States (as they existed before the war) 
vote ' Yes,' or ' No,' on these two propositions, at a special 
election within sixty days. If a majority vote Disunion, our 
government to be bound by it, and to let you go in peace. If 
a majority vote Union, yours to be bound by it, and to stay 
in peace. The two governments can contract in this way, and the 
people, though constitutionally unable to decide on peace or war, 
can elect which of any two propositions shall govern their 
rulers. Let Lee and Grant, meanwhile, a2:ree to an armistice. 



27^ DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

This would sheathe the sword ; and, if once sheathed, it would 
never again be drawn by this generation." . 

" The plan is altogether impracticable. If the South were 
only one State, it might work ; but, as it is, if one Southern 
State objected to emancipation, it would nullify the whole 
thing, for you are aware the people of Virginia cannot vote 
slavery out of South Carolina, or the people of South Carolina 
vote it out of Virginia." 

" But three-fourths of the States can amend the Constitution. 
Let it be done in that way — in any way, so that it be done by 
the people. I am not a statesman or a politician, and I do not 
know just how such a plan could be carried out ; but you get 
the idea — that the people shall decide the question." 

" That the majority shall decide it, you mean. We seceded 
to rid ourselves of the rule of the majority, and this would 
subject us to it again." 

" But the majority must rule finally, either with bullets or 
ballots." 

" I am not so sure of that. Neither current events nor his- 
tory shows that the majority rules, or ever did rule. The con- 
trary, I think, is true. Why, Sir, the man who shall go before 
the Southern people with such a proposition — with any propo- 
sition which implied that the North was to have a voice in 
determining the domestic relations of the South — could not 
live here a day ! He would be hanged to the first tree, without 
judge or jury." 

"Allow me to doubt that. I think it more likely he would 
be hanged if he let the Southern people know the majority 
could not rule," I replied, smiling. 

"I h;ive no fear of that," rejoined Mr. Davis, also smiling 



m RICHMOND. 279 

most good-humoredly, " I give you leave to proclaim it from 
every house-top iu the South." 

"But, seriously, Sir, you let the majority rule in a single 
State ; why not let it rule in the whole country ?" 

"Because the States are independent and sovereign. The 
country is not. It is only a confederation of States ; or rather 
it ivas : it is now tivo confederations." 

" Then we are not a 'people — we are only a political partner- 
ship ?" 

" That is all." 

" Your very name. Sir, ' United States,' implies that," said 
Mr. Benjamin. " But, tell me, are the terms you have named 
— Emancipation, No Confiscation, and Universal Amnesty — 
the terms which Mr. Lincoln authorized you to ofter us?" 

" No, Sir. Mr. Lincoln did not authorize me to offer you 
any terms. But I think both he and the Northern people, for 
the sake of peace, would assent to some such conditions." 

" They arc very generous," replied Mr. Davis, for the first 
time during the interview showing some angry feeling. " But 
Amnesty, Sir, applies .to criminals. We have committed no 
crime. Confiscation is of no account unless you can enforce 
it ; and Emancipation ! You have already emancipated nearly 
two millions of our slaves, and if you will take care of them, 
you may emancipate, the rest. I had a few when the war be- 
gan. I was of some use to them ; they never were of any to 
me. Against their will you 'emancipated' them; and you 
may 'emancipate' every negro in the Confederacy, but we will 
be free ! We will govern ourselves ! We loill do it, if we 
have to see every Southern plantation sacked, and every 
Southern city in flames !" 



280 DOWN IN TENNESSEE. 

"I see, Mr. Davis, it is useless to continue this conversation," 
T replied ; " and you will pardon us if we have seemed to press 
our views with too much pertinacity. We love the old flag, 
and that must be our apology for intruding upon you at all." 

"You have not intruded upon me," be replied, resuming his 
usual manner. " I am glad to have met you, both. I once 
loved the old flag as well as you do. I would have died for it ; 
but now it is to me only the emblem of oppression." 

" I hope the day may never come, Mr. Davis, when / say 
that," said the Colonel. 

A half-hour's conversation on other topics — not of public 
interest — ensued, and tben we rose to go. x\s we did so the 
Rebel President gave me his hand, and, bidding me a kindly 
"good-by," expressed the hope of seeing me again in Rich- 
mond in happier times — when peace should have returned — 
but with the Colonel his parting was particularly cordial. 
Taking his hand in both of his, he said to him : 

" Colonel, I respect your character and your motives, and I 
wish you well — I wish you every good I can wish you consist- 
ently with the interests of the Confederacy." 

The quiet, straightforward bearing, and magnificent moral 
courage of our "fighting parson" had evidently impressed Mr. 
Davis very favorably. 

As we were leaving the room, he added : ♦ 

" Say to Mr. Lincoln from me, that I shall at any time be 
pleased to receive proposals for peace on the basis of our Inde- 
pendence. It wiU be useless to approach me with any other." 

When we went out, Mr. Benjamin called Judge Ould, who 
had been waiting during the whole interview — two hours — at 
the other end of the hall, and we passed down the stairway 



IN KICHMOND. 281 

together. As I put my arm within that of the Judge, he said 
to me : 

" Well, what is the result ?" 

" Nothing but war — war to the knife." 

" Ephraim is joined to his idols — let him alone," added the 
Colonel, solemnly. 

The next day we visited Castle Thunder, Libby Prison, and 
the hospitals occupied by our wounded, and at sundown j)assed 
out of the Rebel lines, thankful, devoutly thankful, that we 
were once again under the folds of the old flag. 

Thus ended our visit to Richmond. I have endeavored to 
sketch it faithfully. The conversation with Mr. Davis I took 
down shortly after returning to the Union lines, and I have tried 
to report his exact language, extenuating nothing and coloring 
nothing that he said. Some of his sentences, as I read them 
over, appear stilted and high-flown, but they did not sound so 
when uttered. As listened to, they seemed the simple, natural 
language of his thought. He spoke deliberately, apparently 
weighing every word, and well knowing that all he said would 
be given to the public. 

He is a man of great ability. Our interview explained to 
me why with no money and no commerce, with nearly every 
one of their important cities in our hands, and with an army 
greatly inferior in numbers and equipment to ours, the Rebels 
have held out so long. It is because of the energy, sagacity, 
and indomitable will of Jefferson Davis. Without him the 
Rebellion would crumble to pieces in a day ; with him it may 
continue to be, even in disaster, a power that will tax the 
whole energy and resources of the nation. 



282 DOWN IN TENNESSfiE. 

The Southern people^want peace. Many of the' Southern 
leaders want it — both my companion and I, by correspondence 
and intercourse with them, know this — but there can be no 
peace so long as Mr. Davis controls the South. Ignoring 
Slavery, he himself states the issue — the only issue with him — 
Union or Disunion. That is it. We must conquer or be 
conquered. We can negotiate only with the bayonet. We 
can have peace only by putting forth all our strength, crush- 
ing the Southern armies, and overthrowing the Southern 
Government. 



THE END. 






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